Call Home the Heart
by MizJoely
Summary: What if Wesley Crusher had a compelling reason to come back to the ship? Wesley-Leffler and more importantly, Picard-Crusher! Complete.
1. Say It Ain't So

**CALL HOME THE HEART**

_Author's Note: This story takes place approximately two months after the 7__th__ season episode "Journey's End." Which definitely makes it an A/U story. _

"Dr. Crusher, are you busy?"

Beverly Crusher looked up, startled. It was early in the ship's "morning", a good half-hour before the official start of her daily shift, and she hadn't expected anyone to interrupt her latest attempt at wading through the crew's annual medical evaluations. Not for anything short of a full-blown emergency, anyway.

She was even more startled when she recognized the speaker as Ensign Robin Leffler, from Engineering, a young woman her son Wesley had shown quite a bit of interest in the last few times he'd been aboard the _Enterprise_. Of course, that had been before he'd decided his destiny lay off the beaten path to a career in Starfleet he'd originally expected to follow. He'd left the ship, left Starfleet Academy, left his career and the life he'd been living, to follow a dream his mother still wasn't sure she understood, two months later.

All of which was in the past and had nothing to do with Robin Leffler in the here and now. She showed no signs of injuries or illnesses that would bring her to Sickbay, Crusher noted as she rose to her feet, just a troubled expression clouding her normally sunny features. But then, she would hardly have gone to the CMO's private office if it was a purely physical problem, not with Nurse Ogawa and Dr. Selar on duty. There hadn't been any alerts, nor was there anything in Robin's manner to indicate a shipwide emergency. Which meant, therefore, that she wished to see the doctor about something else. Something personal, perhaps...

Crusher forced speculation away as she smiled and indicated the chair in front of her desk. "Of course, I'm always busy, but then, you know that," she said lightly. "It's the nature of our jobs. What can I do for you, Ensign?"

Leffler rubbed her stomach in what appeared to be a nervous gesture before moving farther into the room and taking the indicated seat. Yes, definitely nervous, Crusher decided. She waited, an expectant look on her face, for Leffler to tell her whatever it was she wanted to tell her. Or, perhaps, _needed_ to tell her...

"Is something wrong, Ensign?" Crusher took the initiative after an uneasy moment passed in silence.

"No--well, yes. Maybe." Leffler, who had been studying the toes of her boots as if they held the answers to unanswerable questions, gave a helpless shrug as she finally met Crusher's eyes. "Something's happened, and I'm not really sure how to handle it. I never worked out a rule to cover it," she added in a cryptic murmur.

"Is it something I can help you with?" Crusher asked, treading carefully. She was confused, but she allowed only the smallest fraction of that confusion to show in her voice. And none of her impatience.

"Well, it's just that I think--that is, I may be, um, pregnant." Leffler finally said it.

"May be? Or are?" Crusher asked, allowing the impatience to show this time. Just the tiniest bit. But that impatience was beginning to mute into concern. Robin had never struck her as being this inarticulate; she must be very upset. "Have you had one of the nurses run a scan?"

"Uh, no, I decided I'd better talk to you first. I mean, it does concern you. Sort of."

The confusion was back, but only for a moment as comprehension dawned. "Robin, are you trying to tell me--"

"That Wesley's the father? Um, yeah, I guess I am," Leffler finished, tugging nervously at the end of her shoulder-length braid. "And I'm not sure what to do about it."

Crusher let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, then stood up and keyed the privacy lock on her door. She came back around the desk and sank into the seat, studying her young visitor with a more clinical eye, submerging the emotional turmoil Robin's confession caused behind a professional facade. "What are your symptoms?"

"All the classic symptoms: occasional morning nausea, a peckish appetite, and I've been feeling tired and run down lately," Robin reported. "Plus I haven't menstruated for two months." Her voice showed none of its earlier hesitation. "Which is about how long it's been since Wesley...left."

"Didn't you have a contraceptive implant?" Crusher could have taken back the accusative words the moment they left her mouth; the only excuse she could offer was that the shock of this unexpected conversation had slowed her usual censor on her tongue. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she offered contritely.

"No, it's a reasonable question," Leffler replied, either not hearing or not acknowledging the implied criticism behind the doctor's words. "And yes, I had one. All I can think is that it didn't take for some reason. I guess I should have realized what was wrong with me when I first started getting sick," she added sheepishly, "considering the symptoms and all, but it just never crossed my mind until my cycle was off two months in a row. I just thought it was stress."

Crusher could imagine the source of that stress, but wisely offered no comment. "Do you know what you want to do?" she asked instead, fighting to keep her voice professional even as she felt her own stress level rising.

Leffler shook her head. "Not yet. I just wanted to talk to you, to let you know. Since Wesley isn't here..." Her voice trailed off, and Crusher filled the silence not with words, but with a gesture of support as she reached across her desk and took the other woman's hand in her own. Robin smiled and squeezed the doctor's fingers gratefully. "I guess I have a decision to make, don't I."

Crusher nodded, hesitating a moment before voicing her next question. "Have you considered speaking to Counselor Troi about it? This is an important decision, and I'm afraid I can't pretend to be an objective party."

Leffler nodded, unperturbed. "I already did, last night. I didn't tell her about Wesley, and she didn't ask, but I think she might have guessed. Because of the way I reacted when she mentioned speaking to you. I couldn't help it; I was a little nervous at the idea."

"I can imagine," Crusher murmured sympathetically. "What did she say?"

"She basically told me to find out for sure, before worrying about making a decision, and that I could talk to her about it afterwards if I needed to," Robin told her.

"Good advice." Crusher rose to her feet. "Let's take care of the first part right now, shall we?" She ushered Robin into the main part of Sickbay and over to a diagnostic bed. Which gave them a not-unexpected confirmation of Robin's condition. And the fact that her contraceptive implant was functioning, but not anywhere near optimal levels. Crusher took the time to remove it, moving numbly through the motions. _I could be a grandmother,_ was the only thought that kept running through her mind.

Robin looked up at Dr. Crusher and took a deep breath. "Well. That's that." She swung her feet over the edge of the bed. "At least now I know for sure I have a decision to make."

"Would you like me to see if there's some way we can contact Wesley?" Crusher offered, in response to the unasked question in Robin's eyes.

The young ensign nodded gratefully. "If there's any way, any way at all--"

"We'll find it," Crusher responded firmly. She ignored the nagging doubts that fluttered around the edges of her consciousness. There was no choice; they had to find Wesley.

No matter how difficult it might turn out to be.


	2. Feelings

**oOo**

"So how was your day?"

Picard leaned back in his chair and sipped appreciatively at his glass of white wine after offering that question to his dinner companion. They were in Beverly's quarters, sharing one of their rare dinners together. Rare, but more frequent since Wesley had gone off with the Traveler. The captain found it an encouraging sign after her nearly complete withdrawal from his social presence following the diplomatic farce known as the planet Kesspryt's attempt to join the Federation. He respected her need for distance after their enforced proximity, but was glad that things were finally returning to something at least resembling normal. He'd been afraid that Wesley's decision to remain behind in the new Cardassian demilitarized zone would have a negative impact on the relationship between Captain and CMO, but instead it appeared to be having the opposite effect. Picard wasn't ready to question either himself or the doctor as to why this was; he merely accepted it, as he had accepted her withdrawal and her lack of explanation for that withdrawal--accepted it with full confidence that Crusher would allow things to return to normal when she was ready, and, perhaps, offer an explanation for her actions. Although he had several theories of his own, there was no way for him to prove or disprove any of them until and unless she chose to offer one of her own.

With a mental start, Picard realized Crusher hadn't responded to his question, hadn't even appeared to hear it. She was gazing into her own wine glass, one finger running idly along the rim, chin propped in the other hand. "Beverly?" She glanced up inquiringly, but Picard had the feeling she still wasn't fully with him. "Is something wrong? Did something happen today?"

"Did something happen today," Crusher repeated meditatively. She nodded, finally bringing her attention away from whatever had caught it and returning it to the present. Her eyes focused thoughtfully on the captain as she shook an errant strand of red hair away from her eyes--eyes that were still abstracted, still focused on something only she could see. "Yes, something happened today, and I'm not quite sure how to handle it--or at least, how to feel about it. Because it's not really something I have to handle. I just have to...react to it." She looked over at him. "A personal matter, nothing to do with the ship."

Picard felt his brow wrinkling in confusion. "Would you like to talk about it?" Because it didn't sound to him as if she did. More as if she were warning him.

"Not yet," came the not-unexpected response. "Believe me, when I'm able to discuss it, you'll be the first to know. In the meantime," she continued in an apparent change in subject, "there is something I need help with."

"That being?" Picard encouraged.

"I need to find a way to contact Wesley."

"Wesley?" Picard's voice caught in his throat as a sudden fear insinuated itself into his mind. "Is there something wrong? Something wrong with you?"

Crusher shook her head. "No, nothing like that," she hastened to reassure him. "It's not something I can explain right now, but it's not because there's something...wrong. Especially not with me."

Ah, then it had to do with the mysterious something she wasn't allowed to discuss yet, and her words confirmed his suspicions that a third party was involved, and one that apparently was in need of Wesley Crusher. Picard ignored the tiny hesitation he heard in her voice as he sat up straighter in his chair. "Is this request official or personal?"

"A bit of both," Crusher admitted. "I'm asking a favor, a pretty big one, and I know it. I'm asking you to do something without giving you a full explanation, and I'm counting on you to trust me to know what I'm doing. I'm not asking that we go haring off across the galaxy in search of my errant son; I'm merely asking if I might divert a few of the ship's resources to the problem of locating him-if he requires locating," she interrupted herself to add. "After all, he might still be where we left him."

"Two months later," Picard said skeptically. Crusher shrugged and half-nodded, conceding him the point. "And by ship's resources, I'm certain you mean more than merely subspace communications and astrocartography."

"Data and Geordi did sort of spring to mind," Crusher grinned. "If anyone can find Wesley, it would be those two. It certainly doesn't have to be anything like a full-time occupation for either of them. Just something I asked them to do in their spare time--"

Her voice trailed off at the knowing smile that appeared on Picard's face. "Oh, all right, I know that if I ask them to do this they'll spend more time than that on it. Which is why I spoke to you about it first, rather than going straight to them. You caught me." Her voice was unrepentant, her next question the one he expected. "So. What's your answer?"

"I see no reason why we shouldn't help you locate Wesley," was Picard's response. "I trust you to tell me why you need to find him when you can. I'll speak to Mr. Data and Mr. LaForge in the morning."

Crusher leaned forward, blue eyes suddenly intense, completely focused on her dinner companion for the first time that evening. "Thank you."

"You're certainly welcome," Picard began, then broke off as she shook her head.

"Not for helping me find Wesley--or at least, not just for that," Crusher amended. "I never thanked you for not pressing me for an answer...before."

It took only a moment for him to realize what she was referring to. Kesspryt, she was talking about Kesspryt for the first time since the actual event, echoing his earlier thoughts, and he felt his heart leap with encouragement. Of course, she wasn't saying anything terribly enlightening about Kesspryt, but it was a start, and he was content to accept her words for what they were. As a tentative apology for her rejection of his equally tentative offer of continued, unforced, closeness. "When you're ready, I'm certain you'll explain things," was all he said, and he knew by the flash of gratitude in her eyes that she understood him as clearly as he understood her.

"Thank you," she said simply. "For this and for everything else." She raised her glass in mute request, and he clanked his against it solemnly. He was content to wait for her, now and always. She'd all but promised that her reasons would become clear in time-her reasons for this odd request, and her reasons for other things he refused to allow himself to dwell on right now.

All he had to do was wait.

_Interlude_

Wesley James Crusher paused in the middle of the mental exercises his mentor, the alien being known only as "The Traveler," had set him to. He raised his hand to shade his eyes as he scanned the cloudy bluish-green sky of an unnamed planet. "Did you feel that?"

The Traveler appeared instantly at his side, translocating his physical essence effortlessly from the other side of the planet. He, too, raised his head, but his eyes remained closed. "What is it you felt, Wesley?" he asked, speaking instead of projecting his thoughts directly into Wesley's mind. His protégé wasn't quite ready to manage two things so complex at once. Soon, sooner than the Traveler himself had originally estimated, but not quite yet.

Wesley frowned and turned to face the other. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But it was almost like I felt something calling me..." His voice trailed off in confusion. "But it wasn't telepathy, it didn't 'feel' the same as telepathic contact."

The Traveler smiled. "Perhaps we should devote the rest of our time this afternoon to identifying this phenomenon, Wesley." The smile deepened approvingly. "Your ability to sense your surroundings has increased dramatically, if you're able to pick up sendings of that indefinite a nature. I'm impressed."

Wesley felt a blush forming; he wasn't completely convinced he deserved any of the Traveler's praise, not yet. He still had so much to learn, and it felt like it was taking forever, no matter how quickly his mentor told him he was progressing. He almost told him to forget it, that he'd rather continue with his exercises, but something about that faint sensation of being--no, called wasn't quite the right word, it was more like being wanted. No, not even so active a verb as that. It was more like being aware that someone else was aware of you, noticing that you're being noticed.

Wesley shrugged. There was something about that sensation, whatever name he eventually put to it, that he couldn't ignore. "Tell me what to do," was all he said.


	3. How Did I Get Here?

**The **_**Enterprise**_

Robin dragged herself out of her uniform and threw on her most comfortable nightshift. She paused in the act of pulling it over her head, arrested by the sight of her body in the mirror. She studied her reflection as if she'd never seen it before, and it was a moment before she realized she was searching for outward signs of what Dr. Crusher had confirmed was happening inside her body. Nothing yet, not even the tiniest bulge around her middle, but she knew it wouldn't be long before she would have to start wearing a maternity uniform. It was amazing, the changes a person's body could go through, she thought as she finished donning her nightshift and gazed once again at her reflection. "I wonder what other things I'll be surprised by when this baby actually gets here," she murmured, somewhat apprehensively.

Thinking of the baby led her thoughts naturally--and inevitably--to Wesley, Wesley and the tangle of emotions she felt toward him. A tangle that seemed constantly in flux, even at the beginning when their relationship seemed so much simpler; she realized now how illusory that simplicity had been. The strong friendship that had been forged under the fire of the psychosexually addictive game they had helped destroy, along with a certain alien's plans for the _Enterprise_ and the Federation had an element of mild flirtation thrown from the moment they met, but it had been an uncertain flirtation; their parting kiss had been more friendly than passionate, and Robin refused to interpret its meaning any further than simply designating it a good-bye kiss. She also refused to speculate whether that was because she was relieved or disappointed by the simple friendliness of that kiss.

Over the next six months, their friendship had been maintained and deepened through the neutral territory of frequent sub-space communications. Bantering jokes, academic discussions and comparisons of her time at the Academy--not gossip, of course, they would never stoop to wondering if the Academy Medical Officer was really having an affair with the visiting professor from the Vulcan Science Academy--and childhood memories filled those communiqués, along with whatever unclassified information she could pass along about the ship's activities. As time went on, however, conversations of a more personal and even slightly intimate nature began to dominate their exchanges as they cautiously began feeling their way toward a perhaps slightly stronger flirtation.

Whatever the nature of their relationship, Robin had no problem yelling at Wesley when she found out about his near-brush with dismissal--not to mention death, as she so scathingly reminded him in her first communiqué--after what he tried to lightly brush off as "my little stunt" at the Academy. She'd immediately apologized and offered her support, assuring him that even though she was upset, she was still his friend, and would stand by him no matter what. She advised him to tough it out and ignore anyone who tried to get on his case, either about evading the truth about the accident or about tattling about it afterwards. As far as she was concerned, he'd done the right thing.

Wesley's response hadn't been nearly as resentful as she'd expected; in fact, she would swear that he was almost apologetic. Almost. There was still something about his reactions to the accident that didn't sit right with Robin, but she had, reluctantly, decided not to pursue it. Not until the two of them could meet face to face and discuss it in person. Communiqués, for all that they were the actual faces and words of the people sending them, were still too impersonal for all the things Robin thought she and Wesley might have to say on that matter. Instantaneous reaction and response was the proper way to have an argument.

She'd thought that was all that was on her mind, that her concern was natural considering the friendship and almost-something-more than friendship they shared. So she'd felt pleasurable anticipation and just the tiniest bit of trepidation when he told her he was returning to the _Enterprise_ during an upcoming school hiatus; he'd finally caught up enough in his studies to be able to take a vacation, no matter how brief. Both emotions had been mild, easily expressed and as easily put aside until the time of his arrival date drew near. Then, she found herself becoming impatient to see him, an impatience that grew at such a pace and to such an intensity that it caught her completely off guard, even frightened her.

Naturally they hadn't been able to see each other right away. Wesley had gone to see his mother first, and Robin had been working, pulling a double shift at her temporary duty station in the starboard warp nacelle. They'd met briefly for lunch the next afternoon, and she'd had the opportunity to ask only how he was and be vaguely dissatisfied with his evasive answer before being called back early from her break. Then of course she'd heard about his little scene with Geordi in Engineering, and she resolved to make time, no matter what it took, to talk to him. Because there was definitely something wrong with Wesley, and she intended to get to the bottom of it if it killed her. Or him. So she arranged to meet him for dinner, in her quarters, where they could talk in complete privacy.

When Wesley came to her quarters that night, he looked so miserable and woebegone that she almost broke her resolve to try and find out why he was being such a jerk. When she asked him that very question, bluntly, her voice full of bewildered exasperation tinged with affection and a very real desire to understand, he hadn't immediately responded. Which, Robin reasoned, was actually good; it meant he was thinking about what she was asking, not merely reacting to her admittedly harsh demand for information.

"I'm not sure," had been his first, tentative reply.

Robin waited, certain there would be more. Confident that he would talk to her about it. And he had, confessing that he felt torn between what he felt was his duty to enter Starfleet and his desire to do something else--what, he couldn't say, which only frustrated him more. He told her as much, and in so many words, while she listened.

"It's just that..." Wesley's voice trailed off as he rose to his feet and stalked across the room, stopping only when he reached the far wall. "I feel like there's something missing, something not right about my life."

"Like what?" Robin heard the same frustration in her voice as in Wesley's, but couldn't help it; he was being too vague, seemed too uncertain to be able to offer a more concrete explanation, which didn't help either of them.

Her doubts proved true as Wesley shook his head and turned, finally, to face her. "I don't know, Robin. I just don't know. Do you think I like having my insides tied up in a knot when I can't figure out why?"

"Hey, whoa, don't take it out on me!" she protested, raising her hands as if to ward off his words. "If you can't explain what it is, then fine, you can't explain. I can accept that."

Wesley took a deep breath and smiled. Sort of. Very lopsided, very short in duration, but still a smile. "Do you have a rule to cover that?" he asked as he crossed the room and plopped down on the sofa next to her.

"Of course I do." It was Robin's turn to smile as he leaned back and threw a melodramatic arm across his face. "Just give me a minute to remember what it is. But," she continued, her voice determined, "that doesn't let you off the hook."

Wesley groaned from behind the protection of his sleeve. "I know, I know. I promise I'll apologize to Commander La Forge tomorrow."

"Good." Robin paused, then reached out and lifted Wesley's arm just enough to peek in at him. "Are you going to come back out, or do I have to start making pointed comments about turtles?"

He lowered his arm as she settled back against the couch. "I'm sorry; I guess I've been making such an ass of myself lately that all I feel like doing is hiding. Even from you--or is that especially from you?"

He sounded so forlorn that Robin felt a twinge of conscience, which she sternly suppressed. Or tried to. When his eyes met hers, as forlorn as his voice, her sympathies came surging forward, completely overpowering her determination to keep the conversation focused on his unacceptable behavior. She reached over and took his hand in hers, intending only comfort, but the contact was electric. Startled, she turned her eyes to his, to find the same confusion in his eyes that she was certain was mirrored in her own. Confusion, along with a dawning realization that something neither had intended was about to happen between them.

Her mind watched in amazement as her other hand went to join the first, as she and Wesley leaned into a kiss that was as heated as that first touch, a kiss that ended only when they could no longer breathe and were forced to pull apart out of sheer, instinctual, self-preservation. A kiss that was light years away from the last one they'd shared, passionate and intense. Not to mention a little frightening. "I'm not sure I have a rule for this," she murmured, trying to hide the uncertainty in her voice behind a flippant comment.

The uncertainty and flippancy both vanished as Robin saw desire win out over the confusion in Wesley's eyes, a desire that she felt as well. More, perhaps, although she was in no position to judge as she ordered the lights dimmed, ordered soft music, and ordered, last of all, a privacy lock on the door. Just in case. Then she turned back to Wesley, letting him pull her into an embrace as she leaned closer for another kiss. And another, and another...

With a start, Robin returned to the present. She was in her quarters, alone. As alone as she'd been before that night, that single, wonderful night…and as alone as she'd been since that night. Because as quickly as she and Wesley discovered each other, they were parted. He was gone, off doing who-knew-what with the being known as the Traveler, and she was here, trying to decide what she was going to do about the baby they'd inadvertently created that night.

She couldn't even bring herself to blame him for leaving her; he hadn't wanted to. She'd practically had to order him to go, it was so obviously what he wanted to do--and at the same time, what he didn't want to do. Robin could see clearly, even if he couldn't, that the only reason he hesitated at all was because of her, because of their new relationship, and that she couldn't allow. She couldn't force him to choose between her and everything that the Traveler could teach him, couldn't let him stay and be miserable for the rest of his life, miserable and wondering "what if?"; sooner or later, she'd told him, that would tear them apart, no matter how much they wanted to be together now. "Don't say good-bye," were her last words to him. "Because I know you'll be back. And I'll be here."

She'd watched him leave her quarters, waiting until she was certain he was gone--and she was truly alone--before allowing herself to cry. Before allowing herself to realize that she didn't expect him to come back to her, and that, if he did, he wouldn't necessarily be the same Wesley who left, wouldn't necessarily be the Wesley who--she hoped--loved her. And who she loved.

It was a mess, all right, and she still didn't know what to do. She asked the question aloud. "What are you going to do, Robin Leffler? You definitely never made up a rule to cover this sort of thing, unless it falls under Rule 37, 'Always expect the unexpected.' She fell silent, suddenly feeling very alone, then gave herself a mental shake. "Oh no you don't, Leffler," she scolded herself. "You're not completely alone in this. Counselor Troi knows about your condition, and Dr. Crusher knows about your situation as well as your condition, and you know they're both available if you need them. Which means there are at least two other people who know what's going on in your head…and body," she added, glancing down at her stomach ruefully.

Dr. Crusher had confirmed her condition, Dr. Crusher had been informed that her son was the father, but Dr. Crusher couldn't make any of the important decisions for her. Even Counselor Troi couldn't make that decision; she'd made that abundantly clear when Robin had sought her out earlier. She, Robin Leffler, had to do it. Especially with Wesley currently unavailable to help her make those decisions. At least Dr. Crusher could help with that end of it, Robin thought gratefully. She would do whatever she could to find her son and let him know that Robin needed to speak to him. Urgently.

It had been a week since her visit to Sickbay, and Robin knew Dr. Crusher was waiting for her to make a final decision. All in all, the CMO was taking everything rather well, in Robin's opinion, and being remarkably patient with her. Which was more than she'd expected, more than she had any right to expect. "Which still doesn't answer the question," she reminded herself sternly. "What are you going to do?" She paused, then flopped onto her stomach and rested her chin on the backs of her hands. "Time to stop avoiding it. List your options, Leffler, list your options. That's what Counselor Troi said. Then go from there."

She rolled over on her back and held up her hand, staring at it thoughtfully. "Let's start with the hard stuff," she said, continuing to speak her thoughts aloud as she folded down all but one finger. "First, there's termination. This pregnancy was a complete and total accident, caused by a faulty contraceptive implant. The father of the child is unaware of its potential existence, and may not be reachable for who knows how long. And may not want to be a parent. Which, of course, leads to the question of whether I want to be a parent or not."

She considered the idea of motherhood carefully, and found it had a certain appeal. "Keep the list going, Leffler," she ordered herself. "Option two is to keep the child, Option three is to have the baby and give it up for adoption. Option four is to have the embryo removed and frozen until a more convenient time."

She discarded the last two options almost immediately, almost without thought. If she had the child, she would take on all the responsibilities, not just those of gestation and birth. And she didn't think she'd be able to delay the eventual birth of the child; it would prey on her mind until she finally had the embryo re-implanted, no matter how convenient or inconvenient a time it wound up being. Although it was a valid solution to her current predicament--maybe just have it removed until Wesley was found?--she still rejected it. Robin had never been the type of person to put off a decision, and that option seemed nothing more than a delaying tactic, something that offended her most basic sensibilities.

"Nope, no delays and no adoption," she decided as she put her hands under her head and crossed her feet at the ankles. "Which leaves options one and two. Have it or terminate it."

She stared up at the ceiling for a long time, weighing the two options against each other. She wouldn't have to give up her career in Starfleet if she had a baby, but it would mean a considerable adjustment on her part. Especially if Wesley wasn't available to be a father, full or part-time-to the child... She squelched that thought mercilessly. Not finding Wesley was not an option. His reaction to her news might not be favorable, but she told herself firmly that he would be around to have a reaction, to offer his opinion. Whatever it might be. It would be nice if he were around now, when she had to make the biggest decision, but Robin knew that just wasn't going to happen. They would locate him, they would get him back to the ship to talk to her, but it wasn't going to be as soon as she needed to come to a decision. Especially since she fully intended to make that decision now, tonight, before she got caught up in an endless inner debate and let inertia make the choice for her. Rule 83: Never put off decisions till a better time. Which was backed up by Rule 84: There is no such thing as a better time.

"Option one," Robin said slowly. "Terminate the pregnancy. Chalk it up to experience and hope for a more reliable contraceptive implant next time. Tell Wesley whenever we see him, because he deserves to know and because his mother and Counselor Troi know, and tell him no one's laying blame." She shook her head, once, decisively. "Nope. It's not going to happen. I can't do it."

She knew why, too. She knew exactly why, and she wasn't going to lie to herself about it. The simple truth of the matter was that she wanted to have the baby, and for a very selfish reason: it was a part of Wesley, and she wanted whatever part of him she could have. Not very admirable, she admonished herself, but there it was. She knew she was good with children, that she liked children; she volunteered in the _Enterprise_ day-care during her off-shifts and had been told she was one of the best story-tellers, that she seemed to really connect with the toddlers she read to. And she felt that sense of connection, knew that she would have the same sort of connection with her own child, in spite of her problems with her own parents. No matter what the circumstances of its birth or parentage. And that connection would be, no matter how tenuous, a link to Wesley.

Nodding determinedly, Robin rolled off the edge of the bed and called Dr. Crusher over the comm system. No sense in putting it off any longer; Wesley's mother deserved to know Robin's decision as soon as Robin knew it. Which was now.

"This is Dr. Crusher; is something wrong, Robin?"

Robin smiled. "No, Doctor. I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you on becoming a grandmother."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_A/N: And how will Beverly react? To whom will she turn for commiseration or congratulations? Tune in next time to find out, and don't forget to review!_


	4. Air Clearing

**oOo**

"Jean-Luc, would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"

Picard hesitated only a fraction of a second before continuing to walk beside Beverly Crusher. "I don't see why not," he replied carefully, trying hard to suppress a note of surprise at her completely unexpected invitation. Their dinners were usually formal occasions, with the dates carefully chosen and invitations extended well in advance of the actual events, unlike their more relaxed, impromptu breakfasts together before a duty shift. For Crusher to ask him to dinner at the last minute indicated a certain amount of urgency, for all the casual tone in which the invitation was extended. And such urgency, implied or overt, could only be met with immediate assent. Especially if it had something to do with whatever had been on her mind the last time they shared a dinner, something she hadn't even alluded to since that night. Just as she hadn't alluded to Kesspryt since that same night. Picard couldn't shake the feeling that the two things were somehow connected, but was forced to admit that the only evidence he had to back up such a theory was the fact that both had been on Beverly's mind on the same night. Coincidence was just as likely, he concluded, distracted from the current conversation by speculation on the past.

But while he was distracted, Beverly was more focused this afternoon. "Good," she was saying while his thoughts strayed down speculative paths. "I'll see you about an hour after shift's end, then." After those abrupt words, she veered off down a side corridor leading to the biolabs without so much as a good-bye or another look.

Picard stopped and followed her with his eyes until she rounded a corner and escaped his sight. Then he returned to his original destination-his Ready Room-to meet Deanna Troi and Will Riker for review of the annual crew evaluations. Beverly Crusher, no matter how intriguing, would have to be put out of his mind.

For now.

**oOo**

"Jean-Luc, I have something to tell you."

Ah, finally. Picard straightened subtly in his seat, leaning forward just enough to let Crusher know that he was giving her his full and undivided attention. His expression showed sincere concern and interest, and, he hoped, none of the uneasiness he was beginning to feel. It had taken her all evening to come to the point--to even admit that she had a point to come to--and he didn't want to frighten her away by so much as a hint of impatience. "I hope there's nothing wrong," he ventured. A safe enough response.

"It all depends on your point of view," she replied, her voice reflective. Pensive, almost. "Robin Leffler came to see me about a week ago."

Leffler, Leffler…ah yes, he had it now. "Ensign Leffler from Engineering," Picard offered, to show that he was, indeed, aware of the young lady's identity. Of course, it would be difficult to forget someone who'd help save not only his ship but possibly the entire Federation from an insidious invasion attempt; the problem was, there were so many such attempts involving his crew, that it was often difficult to keep track of which crewmember deserved credit during which emergency... "Is something wrong with her? Is she ill?" She hadn't missed any duty that Geordi had reported, nor did he recall seeing anything about her in Geordi's weekly reports. Even so, something must be wrong for the ensign to have spoken to Crusher about it.

"Nothing more serious that impending motherhood," came Crusher's surprising reply.

Picard bit back his automatic response, because he could tell there was more going on here than met the eye. His CMO would not have felt constrained to invite him to dinner merely to discuss a crewmember's pregnancy. Even if that pregnancy were going to cause that crewmember to leave active duty, all he would normally expect to receive would be a report from their commanding officer and a request for leave or, more rarely, a transfer. Or direct notice of intent from the crewmember in question. It wasn't something Crusher would be expected to discuss with him in so..._intimate_...a setting as a candlelit dinner in her private quarters.

"I had to wait to talk to you about it until Robin made up her mind as to what she wanted to do," Crusher continued after a moment. "And of course until she said it was all right to tell anyone." She stared moodily at her wine glass before lifting it to her lips, pausing briefly before adding, "I guess I just don't know how I feel about becoming a grandmother."

There it was, the other shoe. Picard's hand had been reaching for his own glass, and the movement was arrested for a startled moment before he completed it, lifting the glass and sipping before trusting himself to respond to her off-hand statement. "Beverly, are you telling me that Wesley is the father?"

Crusher nodded. "Needless to say, it took me rather by surprise. It took Robin by surprise too," she continued. "She didn't realize the contraceptive implant was defective until she was nearly two months pregnant. And of course my son isn't exactly easily accessible these days."

Finally, an emotion Picard could pinpoint in her carefully neutral tones: concerned unhappiness. "Which is why you asked me to locate Wesley last week," he concluded. "So he could be made aware of the circumstances." Crusher nodded. "Well," he remarked cautiously, "it isn't as calamitous a reason as I feared, but certainly a noteworthy one."

"That's an understatement," Crusher muttered as she rose abruptly to her feet. "Like I said, I'm still not sure how I feel about becoming a grandmother, especially with Wesley out of touch. I think that was part of the reason Robin hesitated before making a decision about the baby," she added as she stood there, tapping absently on the back of her chair, lost in thought. "I'm just glad she's the type to make up her mind quickly."

Picard watched her cross the room to stand framed by the boundless view of space afforded through the large viewport over the sofa, and felt his breath catch at the beauty of the unconscious pose she struck. He could have continued watching her indefinitely, following the curve of her body against the sparkling backdrop of stars flashing by them at warp speed, the arrangement of her hair, the elegant extension of her legs revealed by the mid-thigh length of the front of her dress, but she broke the spell she'd unknowingly cast by speaking. "It's funny."

"What is?" Picard asked as he joined her by the window, turning his gaze through sheer force of will toward the stars streaking by and not the woman standing next to him.

"It's funny how things never seem to turn out the way we plan," she replied, her tone meditative.

"I can tell you from personal experience that children seldom want or do exactly what we plan for them," Picard offered in response, momentarily distracted by painful memories of his own childhood. "I know I certainly disappointed my father with my decision to join Starfleet--"

"That's not what I meant," Crusher interrupted, turning toward him and laying her hand on his arm. "At least, not quite. I wasn't just talking about Wesley." She took a deep breath. "I was talking about us as well. About Kesspryt."

Ah, Kesspryt. The tiny seed of hope he had for this conversation was finally blossoming, and without any need of a hint from him; patience was finally being rewarded. Patience that had been sorely tested when he arrived at the doctor's quarters and saw that she was wearing the same dress she'd worn the night after their return from Kesspryt, the same shoes, even the same hairstyle. But she'd given no indication that she expected him to say anything beyond the usual compliments, so he'd held his tongue. It had been difficult, but he'd managed to restrict himself to telling her how wonderful she looked. A compliment she'd thanked him for before changing the subject from her appearance to dinner with a deftness that indicated deliberate intent.

Crusher released her grasp and lowered herself to sit on the sofa, her eyes inviting him to join her. "In what way?" Picard asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral as he took her up on that invitation, although he kept a certain amount of distance between them. Far enough to keep her from feeling uncomfortable, but near enough to allow her to close the gap if she so chose.

"It's been on my mind, especially now," Crusher began, then stopped uncertainly.

Picard nodded. "You mean now that you're officially on the way to becoming a grandmother, is that it?"

Crusher nodded gratefully. "On the nose, as Nana Howard used to say." She paused, briefly this time. Gathering her thoughts. "I suddenly find myself examining my life, certain decisions I've made, and questioning them. Especially decisions reached after our experiences on Kesspryt. I want you to know that I had no intention of walking out on you like that," she continued, fingering the edge of her dress nervously. "In fact, I had rather different plans for that evening." A wry smile. "As I'm sure you did."

Picard returned her smile as he inclined his head. "Perhaps. Although to be honest, I'm not certain _what_ my intentions were. Certainly not to...chase you off."

"It wasn't your fault," Crusher replied softly. "Actually, it was me." Picard raised a questioning eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. "When we were still linked together on Kesspryt and you told me your feelings toward me had changed, that you were no longer in love with me, I know you sensed mixed emotions from me, or you wouldn't have approached me later. True?"

He nodded. "I thought I felt both disappointment and relief, otherwise what almost happened that night would never have happened," he agreed. "Normally I don't act so impulsively, but it just seemed to be the right time. Obviously I was wrong."

"Only about the timing," Crusher stressed. "I knew why you asked me over, I thought I was ready, but I found myself panicking once the moment arrived, when you suggested exploring our feelings again." She broke eye contact by turning her head the slightest bit and pretending a sudden interest in the flower arrangement on the low table in front of the sofa. "I realized I'd reconciled myself to our relationship remaining as it was, and suddenly you were saying it didn't have to be that way. I'm afraid I wasn't quite as ready to face that possibility as I thought I was. So I left, after sending out very mixed signals." She let out her breath in an almost sigh as she forced her eyes back to meet his. "I'm sorry."

"As am I," Picard echoed her quietly.

Crusher raised her eyebrows in surprise. "For what? For not pressing me into something I wasn't ready for?"

"For being afraid that it was Jack that suddenly came between us," he replied simply.

Crusher stared at him, taken aback both by the unexpected confession and by the naked vulnerability of Picard's eyes. "You thought I turned you down because of Jack?"

"It seemed to make the most sense," Picard admitted. "I know you've never blamed me for his death," he continued quietly, "but it's taken me a long time to reach that point. I've always blamed myself, and I've questioned my actions and decisions many times. Questioned whether there was something else that could have been done, whether my feelings for you had colored my judgment..." His voice trailed off, and this time he was the one who broke eye contact as he rose abruptly to his feet and moved toward the door. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that."

"No, you should have," Crusher disagreed as she, too, came to her feet. She stopped his attempt at flight with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He gave in to the pressure that insisted he turn and face her once again. "Jean-Luc, you let me run away from this conversation once, and maybe that was good and maybe it wasn't, but I don't think it would be a good idea for either of us to run away from it now."

For the briefest of moments she thought he might leave anyway, in spite of the challenge--and subtle plea--in her words. But she felt the sudden release of tension in his shoulders as he nodded, and knew that he had accepted that challenge. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right; haven't you ever heard that doctors and mothers are never wrong?" Crusher asked lightly. "That means I'm right twice as often!" Her tone turned serious again. "We've both said some things that needed saying for a long time. And if you can stand to hear it from me, then I can certainly stand to hear it from you."

"Agreed." Picard kept his own tone solemn, letting her know that he understood how serious she was, in spite of her attempts at humor.

"I have to confess that Kesspryt wasn't the first time I wondered about our relationship," Crusher said. "There were a few times before then that I almost came close to telling you how confused I was about my feelings toward you, how I thought there might be something more than friendship between us, but each time was a moment of desperation, when I thought there might never be a chance to tell you again. And each time, something happened to interrupt, and the moment was lost. As was my courage," she added with a wan smile.

Picard went absolutely still, his eyes betraying the hope her words gave him as he gently asked, "And now I take it you've found your courage again?"

Crusher nodded. "I think we've both been hiding behind ghosts and letting our past get in the way of our future. I never blamed you for Jack, and I never turned away from you because of Jack, but I was hiding behind him in a different sense."

"How so?" The question was cautiously asked; Picard knew what dangerous ground they were both walking on now, the conversational thin ice they were treading; one misstep, one false move, and all would be lost. He couldn't shake the fear that the ghosts Beverly had mentioned would continue to haunt them, unless they exorcised them now, all at once, which was completely unreasonable.

Or was it? It was becoming increasingly obvious that they'd both spent a considerable amount of time thinking about the things they were telling each other tonight; perhaps it could all be brought out, examined, and laid to rest. It was certainly a risk he was willing to take.

"I told myself on more than one occasion that I simply could not handle that kind of loss again, even the mere _potential_ for that kind of loss," Crusher explained as she leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed less defensively than in an instinctive warming motion. "I knew I would have to face the possibility once Wesley graduated, but he changed all the rules on me when he left with the Traveler. Suddenly I couldn't hide behind Jack's death as a way to keep myself from getting too close to anyone. Wesley wasn't going to become a Starfleet officer, and even if he did, his new-found abilities made it clear to me that worrying about him dying in the line of duty was pointless."

"But you could still lose him," Picard felt constrained to point out. "He hasn't become a god."

"No, of course not," Crusher quickly agreed. "But it was enough to get me thinking, or rather, re-thinking the choices I'd made in my own life. I started to feel ashamed of myself for hiding, for distancing myself, but it still wasn't quite enough to push me over the emotional brink. No, it took something as mundane as a pregnancy to make me realize what all that emotional distance was doing to me. To see what I was missing." Picard watched in amazement as the subtle tension that had framed her all evening evaporated, literally before his eyes. She smiled, stretched, and rejoined him on the sofa. "Now that we've got all our doubts and fears out in the open," she concluded, unconsciously echoing his own thoughts, "perhaps it's time to banish them. What do you think?"

"I think," Picard said, his voice equally soft, "that it sounds like a marvelous idea. And long past due."

Crusher closed the small distance that was all that separated them now, placing her lips against his for a gentle, exploratory kiss. A kiss that was everything--and much more--than they'd ever hoped or dreamed.

A little while later, reluctantly, Picard pulled away and studied Beverly as if he'd never seen her before. She returned his gaze unflinchingly, a small smile hovering about the edges of her eyes and lips as she toyed with his collar, long fingers moving unerringly for the small pressure spots that would allow his uniform top to be easily removed. He returned that smile, but allowed it to fade as he focused on her clear blue eyes and placed his hands over hers. Stopping them. "Are we rushing things?"

The question startled Crusher; she pulled away from him, leaning back to study his face but not removing her hands from beneath his. "Rushing things, Jean-Luc?" She shook her head and smiled as she released the seam on his uniform. "I'd say we've both been waiting far too long, letting things get in the way of what we both were afraid to admit we wanted. Let's not fall into that trap again." She paused long enough to finish opening his top before saying simply: "I love you, Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the _Enterprise_. I have no doubts at all."

"And I love you, Beverly Howard Crusher, CMO of the _Enterprise_," he replied, pulling her back into his embrace. "That's all I needed to hear."


	5. Speculation

**End of the First Trimester**

"Sorry, Doctor, but no luck so far."

Crusher's shoulders slumped as Data nodded grave confirmation of Geordi's disappointing words. "It's only been a few weeks," LaForge added encouragingly. "At least we've managed to establish the approximate time Wesley left the Demilitarized Zone."

"But you just said no one knows where he went from there," Crusher pointed out.

"The colonists were able to inform us that Wesley and the Traveler intended to remain not only within our galaxy, but that they also intended to remain within the Alpha Quadrant," Data interposed. "That narrows the scope of our search considerably."

"Data's been working out ways to contact them from a longer distance, if necessary; at least we know we don't have to worry about that right now," LaForge added when he saw that their words weren't doing anything to ease the doctor's anxiety. "We know we haven't learned much, but what we have found out has helped a lot more than you might think."

Crusher forced herself to smile as she straightened her shoulders, fighting very hard not to point out how large the Alpha Quadrant was, no matter its relative size to the entire universe. "I know you're doing your best, and believe me, I appreciate all the time you've put into it. Really, I do. I promise to keep the nagging to a minimum; I know you'll tell me as soon as you find anything out. I'm just a little anxious, that's all. Thanks for the update." Another smile as her eyes darted around, taking in the piles of neatly labeled equipment Data was helping LaForge organize for repair. "I'd better let you two get back to whatever you were doing when I interrupted."

"It's no problem, Doctor," LaForge called after her as she headed for the turbolift. She waved a distracted farewell before disappearing from view. "Well." LaForge turned toward Data, who cocked his head attentively. "What do you suppose the big rush is?"

Data blinked thoughtfully. "I am not certain I understand the question."

"Why do you think she's in such a hurry to find Wesley now?" LaForge clarified. "I mean, he's only been gone about three months, and when he left, I got the impression we wouldn't be seeing him for a while, and that Doctor Crusher knew that. Now, we suddenly get a request from Captain Picard to see if we can find him or find a way to let him know we need to speak to him-whenever we can 'spare a moment', and Doctor Crusher is breathing down our necks, trying not to act like she is. Yet they both insist there's nothing wrong, that they just need to tell him something," he finished. "So, I repeat: what's the rush?"

Data considered his friend's words carefully. "Perhaps they do not wish to contact Wesley about a problem," he said after a moment. "Perhaps it is merely that Dr. Crusher wishes to inform her son of the change in her relationship with the Captain."

That change, while subtle, was still obvious to the crew. Not to mention the main topic of off-duty conversation whenever the two of them weren't around. Data had volunteered to question them on the exact nature of their current relationship, but LaForge had convinced him that the straightforward approach wouldn't be appropriate under these circumstances.

"It has been my observation that when a parent forms a romantic attachment in their child's absence, it can often lead to problems and misunderstandings." Before Geordi could ask under what circumstances Data had made these observations, his friend continued: "Perhaps she merely wishes to inform Wesley herself, so he does not find out from someone else."

LaForge shook his head. "No, I don't think that's it. Well, not all of it," he corrected himself. "Not that it doesn't make sense; it's just the timing of the whole thing," he clarified. "Somehow I don't think the doctor would worry about Wesley's reaction to her romance with the Captain; he's a pretty level-headed kid, and I've always had the impression that they worked out that stuff a long time ago. Don't get me wrong," he added, "I think she'd want to let him know as soon as possible, but I just don't think she'd go so far as to recruit us to help look for him. I think she'd just wait until he contacted her--which is another feeling I got when he left. That he would contact her when he was ready. No," he concluded, gazing thoughtfully at the turbolift doors, "there's something more."

"Perhaps I should question Dr. Crusher as to her motives for conducting this search?" Data offered. "I can explain that we merely wish clarification of the situation in order to allow us to focus our concentration on the search itself and not on speculation as to the reasons for that search…"

LaForge's horrified expression did the nearly impossible; it stopped Data in the middle of a sentence. "Geordi, is there something wrong?" The android glanced over his shoulder to see if perhaps the warp core was melting.

"Data," LaForge said in a strangled voice, "if the Captain and Dr. Crusher wanted us to know why we're looking for Wesley, they'd tell us. If it was something that would affect the ship or anyone on it, or if they thought Wesley was in trouble, they'd have let us know by now. But they haven't, which tells me that, no matter what the reason, it isn't life threatening, it isn't dangerous, and it probably isn't any of our business. I shouldn't have started this conversation in the first place," he muttered, mostly to himself, but of course Data heard him.

"Had we not discussed the situation together, we still would have theorized on our own," Data pointed out reasonably. "And I might have approached the Captain or Dr. Crusher without consulting you first, which you seem to view as a negative action. I still believe the quickest way to determine the reasons for our search for Wesley would be to ask, but I accept your statement that neither the doctor nor Captain Picard would respond well to such a query."

LaForge grinned in relief. "Good." He glanced down at the console that had been giving them so much trouble this afternoon. "Then let's get back to work."

Data nodded. "I shall return shortly." He moved away from the console, glancing once at the list of equipment they needed to finish their repairs and committing it to memory, paused, then added: "I shall reserve my questions for Wesley's return."

LaForge groaned inwardly. "Just make sure you talk to me first, okay?" At Data's nod of agreement, he allowed himself to relax. It wasn't that he felt they had no right to ask why they'd been assigned to try and contact Wesley--and subtly discouraged from discussing that mission with anyone, at least by Dr. Crusher--because he did. But he also respected both Captain Picard and Dr. Crusher enough to allow them their privacy in this matter. After all, he thought wryly, what little privacy they thought they had was already integrated into the ship's efficient grapevine. Integrated, interpreted, analyzed…hell, it had practically _become_ the ship's grapevine. Nobody had heard anything about Wesley, and as far as Geordi knew, only the four people directly involved in looking for him knew it was happening.

Well, maybe one other person knew. As he waited for Data to return, LaForge spotted Robin Leffler working quietly near the dilithium chamber. Frowning in concentration, she turned to speak to Sonya Gomez, who was helping the younger woman calibrate the crystal matrix today. As she turned, her commanding officer's eyes automatically strayed toward her midsection, and the barely detectable bulge that was beginning to form. When she'd told him about her pregnancy he'd congratulated her, although he couldn't keep the concern from his eyes or voice as he asked what her plans were. She had told him she fully intended to keep working, that Dr. Crusher would let him know if her condition required any change in her schedule or duties, and that had been that. She hadn't volunteered any information on the parentage of her child, and he was sensitive enough not to raise the issue, although it had been the first question that came to mind. Especially since Robin hadn't been seeing anyone that he knew of…or that any of her friends knew of, for that matter. He'd overheard a couple of conversations in which Robin's "mystery man" had been the main topic, but it was quite clear that Robin wasn't answering any questions on the subject, and her friends and co-workers respected her privacy, once the initial rounds of congratulations and excited questions were over.

Of course, LaForge mused as he forced his eyes back to the readout in front of him, it could be just a coincidence, but the timing and the secrecy--which Robin camouflaged quite well behind an air of casualness that Dr. Crusher would do well to study--led him to his own, private conclusions. Conclusions which only time would bear out. Or prove wrong.

He would just have to do what he'd told Data to do: wait.

_Interlude_

"There! Did you feel it?"

The Traveler smiled. "Faintly. But I gather you felt it stronger that time?"

"Much stronger," Wesley agreed. "Now that you showed me how to open my other senses, it's a lot clearer. Someone needs me--" he broke off with a puzzled frown. "Is that why I'm feeling it so much stronger than you are? Because it's directed specifically toward me?"

The Traveler nodded approvingly. "That's exactly it, Wesley. But have you noticed anything else that seems... unusual?"

Wes frowned. "Not really…no, wait," he interrupted himself. His companion nodded encouragingly. "There is something. I've been assuming this is some kind of telepathic communication, even though it still doesn't 'feel' like that. But it isn't." The Traveler shook his head. "What else could it be?" Wesley's voice filled with frustration.

"It's akin to telepathy, but not quite on the same level," the Traveler replied. "I'm extremely encouraged that you were able to distinguish that there was a difference. It's very subtle, more a matter of frequency than anything else. I suppose the closest I can come to describing it is to call it the difference between a conscious attempt at telepathic communication and an unconscious desire to communicate, but without a normal telepathic ability to do so. But because there is some sort of link between you and whoever is attempting the communication, most likely an emotional one, you're able to pick it up with your newly expanded senses."

"I think I see. Sort of," Wesley replied with a faint grin. "It's somewhere between telepathy and empathic projection, is that it?"

The Traveler stared at Wesley for a moment, caught off guard once again by the clarity of his student's perceptions. "Very good, Wesley," he replied, not bothering to hide the approval--or the admiration--in his expression and voice.

Wesley's grin became self-conscious as he turned his eyes toward the sky. "So what do we do now?"

"Now we attempt to trace it back to its source. After that," the Traveler shrugged, "it's up to you as to how you wish to proceed."

Wesley nodded slowly. "You'll have to show me how to trace it, so I'll be ready the next time I sense it." His eyes remained focused on the sky, and he never noticed when the Traveler faded from view, tactfully leaving Wesley to his thoughts.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_A/N: I'm baaaaaack! Miss me? Florida was wonderful, and if you are also reading my Avatar: Last Airbender story "Sometimes a Happy Ending is Just a New Beginning", don't despair, I will also have updates for that in the next couple of days. If you're just reading this, then enjoy, review, and I promise to continue with timely updates now that all that vacation stuff is out of the way!_


	6. Oh Bother

**End of Second Trimester**

Robin gazed out the viewport in her quarters, not really seeing the stars or the typical distortions traveling at warp speed caused, just as she hadn't really seen her own quarters since she came off-duty this evening.

She was six months pregnant, and the baby had been moving, stronger and stronger, for nearly three months now. Another milestone Wesley had missed. She felt tears welling in her eyes, brushed them away angrily. Emotional fragility was something completely foreign to her, and no matter how much Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi tried to reassure her it was due to hormones, she knew that wasn't entirely true. A great deal of it had to do with their continued failure to find any trace of Wesley or the Traveler, and the further into her pregnancy she got, the more impatient she became to have Wesley near her. Not just for her own emotional support, but also because she wanted him to experience as much of this with her as he could. She realized that might only be a few minutes; who knew what his studies with the Traveler entailed, after all, or what effect interrupting those studies might have? Those thoughts distressed her as well; for the first month after she'd decided to keep the baby and told Dr. Crusher it was all right to let Captain Picard know the situation so he would agree to search for Wesley, she'd found herself in an agony of indecision, unable to make up her mind if she'd done the right thing by initiating the search for her child's father.

Counselor Troi had been quite firm on that matter, once she discovered the true source of Leffler's emotional distress; she'd told Robin that she couldn't blame herself for this any more than she could for the faulty contraceptive implant. "I doubt very much that an attempt at communication will have any lasting effect on the things Wesley is learning from the Traveler," she'd said firmly. "You seem to be dealing far better with the idea that he might not be able to come back than with the idea of contacting him in the first place."

That was true, although Robin hadn't wanted to admit it, to Counselor Troi or to herself. But it was true, and she'd always been one to face the truth, no matter how painful. She _was_ more concerned about Wesley than herself at this point, more concerned with doing damage to his future by looking for him than with her own desire to have him with her during her pregnancy, and for however long after the baby was born he might or might not be able to stay. She felt selfish, not only for making the decision on her own, but for trying to find him at all. But Counselor Troi had pointed out, quite reasonably, that Wesley might prefer to know about the baby in advance, rather than being presented with a fait acomplis, and Robin had been forced to agree, especially after consulting with Doctor Crusher on the matter, again at Troi's urging.

"Robin, don't ever feel you've done anything wrong," had been Crusher's shocked advice, once Leffler explained what had been bothering her. "None of this is your fault, and no one could possibly blame you for how you've handled it. Please don't worry about how Wesley will feel about having his studies interrupted; Counselor Troi is right, he'd want to know."

It had helped, hearing that. Not quite as much as hearing it from Wesley himself would, of course, but enough to calm her fears about his reaction to her attempts to contact him. Now, of course, all she had to worry about was his reaction to the news she wanted to contact him about.

She turned away from the window, blinking away another onrush of tears. "Hormones are a real pain in the ass," she muttered as she lowered herself to sit on the room's small sofa.

She leaned her head back, rubbing tiredly at her neck as she tried to slow her whirling thoughts. All she seemed to do lately was worry, and the harder she tried not to, the worse she felt. Counselor Troi had recommended a reduced work schedule to Commander LaForge, which Leffler had protested, but now she admitted the wisdom of the Counselor's advice, further backed up by Doctor Crusher's medical agreement. Sometimes, however, it seemed the extra free time only gave her more chances to brood on her situation. Like today, for instance. It was all she could think about.

"If something doesn't happen soon, I'll be a basket case," she announced to the room in general, then forced herself to her feet. Maybe a walk around the arboretum would help, and dinner in Ten Forward instead of alone in her quarters. She nodded as she paused in front of the mirror to comb out her hair. "No sense sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, Leffler," she told her reflection sternly, then nodded and headed out the door.

oOo

"Something's bothering you."

Crusher flashed Picard a suspicious glance. "When did you become a mind reader?"

He shrugged. "Just observant. Do you want to talk about it?"

Crusher sighed and lowered herself to sit next to him. They were in her quarters tonight; by mutual and unspoken consent, the topic of moving in together had not yet been raised. And Picard knew it would remain unraised until certain other matters were resolved. "I was just thinking about Robin."

Picard nodded; as he'd expected. Robin and Wesley--and, of course, the baby--occupied more and more of the doctor's thoughts the longer it took them to locate her errant son. Four months had passed since Beverly's surprising revelation that she was going to be a grandmother--and their mutual acknowledgment of their love for one another. Four months of joy and chaos for both of them as they began the delicate art of negotiating the boundaries of their personal and professional relationships. He still marveled at the ease with which they were both handling the day-to-day details, in spite of the expected lapses and misunderstandings inherent in any new relationship. But the ghosts of their past had, indeed, been laid to rest after that first night, which only left, he thought ironically, the present and the future to worry about.

He was especially uncertain as to how things would progress once the crisis of looking for Wesley had been resolved. Crusher was distracted by both the search for her son and the imminent birth of her grandchild; not to the point that Picard felt neglected, but enough that he wondered how comfortable their relationship would be when she was able to give him her full and undivided attention. Of course, it could be quite some time before that happened; even if they found Wesley tomorrow, that would only be one distraction removed. But they all knew how unlikely it was that he would be located any time in the near future, and Picard also knew that both Robin and Beverly were becoming more and more concerned the longer it took, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. "Regarding anything in particular?" he asked, forcing his thoughts back into the present.

"Just the fact that they had so...intimate...a relationship and Wesley never told me about it, I suppose," Crusher admitted.

Picard felt his eyebrow rise at that one. "Can you honestly say you expected him to tell his mother something like that?"

Crusher shook her head impatiently. "No, of course not. I wouldn't have wanted to hear any of the, um, what's the phrase? Gory details?" She shook her head again. "I just would have expected him to let me know he'd been seeing someone, that's all. I knew that Robin and Wesley had gotten close during that little incident on his first visit back to the ship, and that they were keeping in touch," Crusher continued, leaning her head against Picard's shoulder. "But I didn't realize how close they'd become." She closed her eyes and sighed dramatically. "I suppose it comes as a shock to every mother when she realizes her little boy is growing up."

"His decision to leave the Academy and study with the Traveler didn't alert you to that fact?" Picard asked, dropping a gentle kiss on her forehead to ease any possible sting the words might carry.

Crusher grimaced without opening her eyes, a dismissive expression that brought a faint smile to Picard's lips. "This isn't the same thing, and you know it."

"No, I suppose not," he agreed solemnly. "I imagine it's more like the first time you realized that your parents must have had sex. At least once."

_That_ brought her eyes open. Her head snapped up and she gave him an outraged, reproachful look before breaking into a reluctant smile. "I suppose it is," she muttered ruefully. "Of course we had 'the talk' when he was younger and a modified version before he left for the Academy, but still..." Her voice trailed off into another sigh. "And you don't have to say it."

"Say what?" Picard asked, his voice still innocent but his eyes brimming with mirth. He was enjoying her discomfort much more than he would have ever thought possible. More than was perhaps appropriate, but he trusted himself not to cross the line. He loved her too much to ever seriously wish her harm. Besides, it was fun to give her back some of her own for once.

"That I'm contemplating the fact that I'm about to become a grandmother, and I'm finding myself completely unprepared for it," Crusher replied. "That I'm feeling sorry for myself."

Picard pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that's about right. But," he hastened to add when her expression threatened to cloud over, "I was also going to say that you are certainly the most attractive grandmother I've ever seen."

"That helps," Crusher conceded, nestling her head against his shoulder and lacing her arm through his. "When we find Wesley, I suppose we'll have to give him multiple shocks: impending fatherhood, and finding out that not only does his mother have sex, but starship captains have sex, too." She dimpled at Picard innocently, the grin broadening at his outraged stare.

"I suppose I deserved that," he grumbled, relaxing only slightly against the back of the sofa. So much for counting coup. "You wouldn't really tell him we've been seeing each other in those exact words." His voice faltered. "Would you?"

Crusher pretended to consider the idea, enjoying the uncertainty that had crept into his voice, then shook her head. "Of course not. I'm just going to tell him that we've become involved, and leave the gory details to his imagination." She repeated the archaic phrase with relish.

Picard repressed a shudder. "Yes, well, Wesley's imagination has always been a tad too well-developed for my comfort," he murmured. "However, since he isn't here yet, and since we're both off-duty until tomorrow afternoon..." His voice trailed off suggestively. The physical part of their relationship was certainly proceeding in a normal and healthy manner, unimpeded even by the distraction of worrying about Wesley and Robin and the baby and any of half a hundred other things at any given moment.

"Computer, lower the lights--and put a privacy lock on the door," was the last thing either of them said for a long time.


	7. Surprise Visitor

**ooooooo**

Wesley _concentrated_, as the Traveler had shown him, and suddenly he was there. Exactly where he wanted to be. Well, maybe not exactly. He'd arrived on the _Enterprise_, all right, but instead of appearing in his mother's quarters, he'd shown up in someone else's. At least, he assumed it belonged to someone else, since he could just make out two dark lumps in the bed. "Missed it by that much," he muttered inaudibly, then _concentrated_ again, closing his eyes to focus on the mental image he had formed of his mother's quarters.

The only trouble was, he didn't feel the internal shift that meant successful completion of his attempt at translocation. He frowned and opened his eyes, surveying the darkened room a little more carefully now, using all his senses, again as the Traveler had shown him.

The frown deepened as he realized that he was, indeed, in his mother's quarters, the smaller quarters she'd taken after returning from her year at Starfleet Medical. But if it was his mother's quarters, and there were _two_ people in the bed, then that could only mean... Wesley's eyes widened in shocked disbelief, and he felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Thank God the room's two occupants appeared to be sleeping and not--and not--

Before he could complete the thought, the lights sprang on and he froze as he found himself staring into his mother's startled blue eyes--and those of Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

They remained frozen for a long pair of minutes, until Beverly broke the tableau by shifting her eyes away from those of her son to glance sidelong at the captain. "Well," she said with a sly grin, "I guess this takes care of the question of finding out your mother has sex." She smiled, ignoring the outraged look Picard shot her, then off threw the covers and reached for her robe. She stood up, pulling the robe over her pajamas before opening her arms for a hug. "I'm sure this isn't quite what you expected, but welcome home, Wes."

Wesley finally moved forward, embracing his mother as Captain Picard climbed out of bed and pulled his own robe on over his pajamas as well. "I'm sorry, Mom, it just never occurred to me that you wouldn't be alone. And I didn't want to have to worry about explaining myself to anyone else. I should have just found an unoccupied corridor, but I was in too much of a hurry." He sought Picard's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Picard smiled faintly as Beverly continued to embrace her son. "No harm done, Wesley, and we were looking for you, so perhaps it's just as well." He glanced upward: "Although I shall have to speak to Mr. Worf abut improving the intruder alert system," he murmured, smiling to show he didn't mean it. Not really.

Wesley nodded, following his mother and the captain to the sitting room. He nodded again as Picard asked if wanted a cup of tea, then sank gratefully into the cushions of the sofa as the captain ordered three cups from his mother's replicator. Beverly joined her son on the sofa, reaching across for another hug. "I know you were looking for me, but I'm still not sure why."

"You knew?" His mother looked amazed. "How? Geordi and Data have been working on a way to contact you, but they weren't terribly optimistic about reaching you anytime soon."

"It's something the Traveler's been teaching me to sense, something a little like telepathy and a little like Counselor Troi's empathy, but not quite the same as either one." Wesley stopped, frustrated by his inability to explain. "I'm sorry I can't be more specific, but I can't even explain it to myself, much less anyone else; it's just something I _know_."

"Well, whatever it is, we're just grateful it brought you to us," Picard broke in.

"Even though your timing might have been a little better," Crusher muttered before she could catch herself.

Wesley ignored that comment as he turned to face the captain. "That's what I came to find out. Why exactly were you looking for me, sir?"

Picard and Crusher exchanged uncertain glances. "To be honest, we're not really the ones looking for you," his mother finally admitted. "Well, we were," she corrected herself hastily, "but it was because someone else needs to speak to you."

"Who?" Wesley asked, not bothering to hide the confusion he was feeling.

"Robin Leffler."

Wesley blinked in surprise. "Robin needs to talk to me? Is she all right?"

"I think you'd better let her explain," his mother said gently as she glanced over at her chronometer. "It's late, but I don't think she'd mind if you woke her up."

Wesley nodded and rose to his feet. "If you're sure--"

"I'm positive." His mother gave him another quick hug and walked him to the door. "We'll let security know you're on board and set you up in guest quarters," she promised as the doors whooshed open.

Wesley blew a sigh as the doors closed behind him, glancing back only once as he started down the deserted corridor. If Mom said that Robin needed to see him right away, then so be it, but as soon as he had this situation sorted out--whatever it was--then he and his mother were going to sit down and have a long chat about the interesting new twist her relationship with the captain had taken during his absence. Not to be nosy or anything, of course. Just to clarify.

**oOo**

Picard gazed at the entrance to Beverly's quarters for a moment after Wesley left, distracted by the uncomfortable thought that his earlier musings might somehow be responsible for Wesley's sudden appearance on the ship. Hadn't he been wondering how the younger Crusher's immediate return would affect the situation they all found themselves in? Well, he was about to find out, and of course the timing of Wesley's appearance was sheerest coincidence, but it still made him wonder. After all, who knew how much the Traveler was teaching the boy? No, he corrected himself as he finally turned his eyes away from the door, young man. Wesley was hardly a boy, as he'd teased Beverly earlier.

With a start, Picard realized that Wesley's mother was studying him as intently as he'd been studying the door to her quarters. He smiled apologetically and settled back against the couch.

"Welcome back, from wherever you just went," she greeted him with a raised eyebrow. He merely shrugged and stretched his arms invitingly along the back of the sofa. Beverly shook her head as she joined him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Well," she murmured, "I guess he's back."

"Do you think it was a good idea, sending him to Robin without telling him something about the situation first?" Although the words might be taken as a mild rebuke, Picard happened to agree with her decision; he just wondered what her justification would be.

"Yes, I do," she replied, exactly as expected. There was no indecision in either her voice or her eyes. "And so do you. You just want to know why I did it."

Picard inclined his head, acknowledging the accuracy of her words. "I imagine it's because you felt it would be unfair to Robin if we warned him."

"Damn right. Although part of me says I'm being unfair to him by not telling him, the rest of me says it would be more unfair if I did say something. After all, it's not my secret to tell. In fact--" Her voice trailed off as she sat up and put a hand to her mouth indecisively. "I wonder if I should call Robin…"

Picard caught her wrist and pulled her hand away from her face, gently forcing her to remain seated. "This is out of our hands, Beverly. Robin knew that if we found Wesley there might not be any warning. We've all been bracing ourselves to expect the unexpected where your son is concerned; I think it would be best if we allowed Robin to handle this without any well-intentioned interference from us."

Beverly nodded reluctant acceptance of his words, and he felt her wrist ease in his grasp. Satisfied that she agreed with him, he released his hold, only to find his arms suddenly full of her as she embraced him fiercely. He held her as tightly as she seemed to need, not speaking, content to allow her this moment of rare vulnerability. She'd been so strong throughout this entire situation, not allowing Robin to see her fears, and barely revealing them to Picard. He took comfort in her need for comfort, too; one fear he hadn't revealed to her was that she didn't really need him. He knew how foolish that was, but it still existed, waiting at unexpected moments to pounce.

Without pulling away, without removing her head from his shoulder, she spoke. "He didn't seem different to me."

Ah, there it was, the real reason behind her sudden need for comfort. It hadn't occurred to Picard, caught up in the details of locating Wesley, that there might be something else weighing on Beverly's mind--and quite probably on Robin's as well. "He seems the same to me, too," he agreed, choosing his words carefully. "Did you not expect him to be? Physical translocation across vast distances of space and an ability to sense things 'between telepathy and empathy' notwithstanding," he added dryly.

"I didn't know what to expect," Beverly confessed, finally moving her head so he could see her better. He settled her more comfortably in his arms; this could be a long discussion, and if she required the physical reassurance of his touch, then he was prepared to oblige her. As long as she wasn't sitting in such a way as to put his arms to sleep, that is.

"Neither did I, but I wasn't too concerned." Beverly stared at him in puzzlement as Picard nodded. "Think about it. The Traveler has abilities that we can barely comprehend, but that doesn't mean the Traveler is someone we can't comprehend. He isn't beyond our understanding; he has emotions that we recognize and can relate to. Why would anything he has to teach Wesley make your son alien to you? It's really no different than if he were a prodigy in a more recognizable field, like music or Vulcan mathematics--or propulsion systems," he stressed, reminding her of the Traveler's original assessment of Wesley's talents. "If you think of it that way, then it's not surprising that Wesley didn't seem that different, to either of us."

"I suppose that makes sense," Crusher said slowly, considering his words. "I was so busy worrying about how different he might be, that I forgot to wonder what it would be like if he seemed the same to me. And that's really the sense I had when he was here just now," she added, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular as she cast her thoughts back over their recent conversation. "He seemed...reassuringly normal. I suppose the fact that he sensed that someone needed him isn't really too different than the way Deanna senses emotions."

Picard nodded reassuringly, although he had his own sense--that Beverly no longer required such reassurance from him. At least, not on this subject. "We'll just have to wait and see what happens next."

"Indeed," Crusher murmured, smiling up at him mischievously. "But what I wouldn't give to be a fly on Robin's wall right now…"

Enough of that, Picard decided, swooping down to capture a kiss before repeating his thought verbally. "Enough of that nonsense," he chided her with mock sternness. "It seems to me that you require something else to keep your mind occupied..."

"If you say so, Captain." The innocent tone did not fool him for a moment, especially when she continued: "But it isn't really my mind that I'd like occupied right now..."

"I think I can find a happy medium," Picard murmured as he bent his head for another kiss. Wesley would just have to wait until the morning to creep back into their thoughts.


	8. Awkward Meeting

**oOo**

Robin rolled over grumpily, trying to figure out why she was suddenly awake. She didn't have to go to the bathroom, she wasn't hungry, she hadn't been having a nightmare... The door chimed, and she sat up, realizing that it wasn't the first time someone had tried to get her attention that way. The first chime had insinuated itself into her dreams, but the second--or was it the third?--had managed to bring her out of sleep and back into reality. She came to her feet with a groan and ordered the lights on dim as she shrugged into a robe and walked over to the replicator. "Come in," she called over her shoulder, then ordered a bowl of tomato soup and a glass of milk. As long as she was up, she reasoned, she may as well take care of the hunger pangs her body would no doubt be scheduled to start feeling soon.

The door opened, and she heard someone hesitantly step into the room. "Robin?"

At the sound of that unexpectedly familiar voice, Leffler froze, then turned slowly to confirm the speaker's identity.

It was him. "Wesley?" She took a step forward, then stopped, keeping her body from throwing itself into his arms through sheer force of will. "I can't believe you're here! When did you get back? I didn't even realize Commander LaForge and Commander Data were able to contact you!"

"They didn't."

"Then how--?" Robin began, her voice puzzled.

"I'll explain when I get a chance to catch my breath; it's kind of complicated," Wesley interrupted. "I came here right away because Mom told me you needed to speak to me, that it was too important to wait for the morning." He hesitated only briefly before asking: "Is something wrong?"

Robin could hear the concern in his voice, and even though she still couldn't see him clearly, she knew that same concern would be showing in his warm brown eyes. But she found herself reluctant to turn up the lights. If she did, she'd be able to see him better, but he'd be able to see her better, too, and although she knew it was inevitable, she still didn't want to do it. However, there was no way around it. Squaring her shoulders and taking a steadying breath, she spoke. "I guess there's no easy way to do this, Wesley. Would you please sit down?"

She thought he frowned before nodding and moving over to sit in the nearest chair. Robin took another deep breath before ordering the lights up to full.

Wesley hadn't been sure what to expect, and it took a moment for the sight of Robin's distended abdomen to percolate down through his consciousness; he'd been expecting signs of some horrible, disfiguring accident, especially with the way she kept the lights so dim. But the implications of the bulge in her midsection made him suddenly very glad that he'd taken the seat she suggested, as he fought a sudden weakness in his knees and finally forced his eyes back up to hers. "Did I--did we--is that--"

"Yes you did, yes we did, and yes it is," Robin replied with a touch of humor as she took the chair opposite his. "I was hoping we could contact you sooner, but I guess that just wasn't meant to be." Her eyes crinkled with laughter. "If anything can go wrong, it will."

"Which rule is that?" Wesley shot back, responding to her attempt to lighten the mood.

Robin shook her head. "Not one of mine, I'm afraid. Well," she reconsidered, tilting her head to one side, "actually, I sort of borrowed it from someone named Murphy. I just never bothered to give it a number."

Wesley nodded. "It does seem sort of universal, doesn't it," he mumbled, his voice as dazed as his eyes. Robin silently handed him the glass of milk. He drained it in three gulps before speaking again. "How far along--no, wait, six months, right?" He grinned ruefully. "I'm not that far out of it, I still know how long it's been since I left the ship. Sorry." He hesitated. "Does anyone--I mean, did you--"

Robin shook her head as Wesley's questions trailed off awkwardly; she understood what he was trying to find the most diplomatic way to ask. "Anyone who asked got told it was someone who wasn't aboard the ship; friends knew enough to back off and anyone rude enough to push deserved the equally rude answer I gave them, if any. Only the captain and your mother know--and probably Counselor Troi," she added. "I think she guessed when I went to her for advice. I'm just sorry we couldn't get in touch with you sooner. I'm not blaming you," she added, correctly interpreting the stricken look on his face. "So don't start feeling guilty." She grinned. "If you want to place blame, lay it on a faulty contraceptive implant."

Her voice turned serious again. "I thought it was important for you to at least know about the baby, even if you're not--" It was her turn to falter to a stop, to search fumblingly for the right thing to say and the even harder to find right way to say it.

"Even if I'm not going to be around to be a father," Wesley finished.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that," Robin said after a moment of awkward silence. She rubbed her stomach absently. "I'm still waking up, you have to give me points for that."

"I have to give you points for a lot more than that," Wesley countered, allowing his eyes to stray toward her mid-section once again. "Deciding to have this baby without knowing if I'd be around, or even where I was..." His voice trailed off, and he suddenly stared at her with wondering eyes. "It was you," he said softly, his voice as wondering as his eyes. "I assumed it was my mother, but it wasn't. It was you."

"What was me?" Robin asked, confused.

"I thought it was my mother 'calling' me, but it wasn't. It was you."

"Wesley, I don't understand," Robin broke in. "I wasn't calling you, I was just hoping that Commander LaForge and Commander Data would be able to find some way to reach you."

Wesley nodded eagerly. "I know. But somehow that desire to find me translated into an almost telepathic feeling; I sensed it, and so did the Traveler--" He fell abruptly silent as he realized what he was saying--and who he was saying it to.

"Which brings us back to the problem at hand," Robin finished softly. She put aside the question of figuring out what Wesley was talking about for later. If they had a later... "Wesley, I meant what I said about just wanting to let you know what happened. I'm not trying to force any decisions on you, or make you come back to stay with me--with us," she corrected herself with a blush. "I just want to know whether you'll be able to stay until the baby's born, or if you could come back in time for the birth. I'd really like you to be there," she said, her eyes firmly fixed on her hands. "I don't expect an answer right this minute, and I'm not asking you to give up your future to stay with us, but I'd really like it if you could be there to greet your daughter when she arrives."

"It's a girl? You already found out the sex?" Wesley stammered, momentarily diverted by Robin's casual revelation.

"I think I told you once that I'm not big on surprises," Robin replied. "I've even picked out a couple of names for you to choose from. So we can both be part of naming her."

"Thanks." There was an awkward pause before Wesley spoke again. "Um, how have you been? I mean, how have you been feeling?" He was on the verge of babbling, and forced himself to shut up before he made any more of a fool of himself than he already felt.

Robin smiled and patted his hand. "I'm fine, Wes, but you've had a bit of a shock tonight--actually, we both have," she confessed. "I know we've been looking for you, but I wasn't expecting you to show up in the middle of the night, unannounced, and I'm afraid I don't do my best thinking or talking at 2:00 in the morning. So, I think it would do us both a world of good if we just--said good night. We can talk some more later. Can't we?" The uncertainty had returned to her voice.

Wesley nodded as he stood up, surprised but not too surprised to find how unsteady he still was. "I doubt either of us will be getting much sleep."

"You're right about that," Robin conceded as she, too, rose to her feet. They stared at each awkwardly for a moment before moving together in a tight embrace. "You know where I'll be when you're ready to talk again," Robin whispered, and felt him nod against her shoulder before she finally, reluctantly released him.

"I promise I won't take an unbearable amount of time," Wesley said, his voice as unsteady as his feet had been a moment before. He pressed a kiss against her lips before turning and heading for the door.

"Rule 17 is that things usually take less time than you imagine, but longer than you hope," Robin whispered once the doors were firmly shut behind him. "Lights out."

As predicted, it was a long time before she returned to sleep.

**oOo**

Wesley didn't even make a pretense at trying to sleep. He wandered the decks for a while before his feet brought him unerringly to Ten Forward. The lounge was deserted, not even a bar attendant in sight, but he hadn't really expected to find anyone there this late. He just needed a quiet place to sit and think, and wasn't ready to face the quarters that would have been arranged for him by now, knowing the efficiency of the _Enterprise_ staff. There might be a few raised eyebrows when the CMO unexpectedly requested guest quarters in the middle of the night, but he had no doubts that the computer would immediately send him to the right place if he asked.

He was staring out the window at the view of space, trying to distract his thoughts by concentrating on changing his vision so the warp streaks looked like normal stars, when he heard the doors open.

It was Guinan; he knew without looking that the enigmatic bartender was the person walking up behind him. "Hello, Guinan."

"Hello yourself, Wesley." He turned to face her as she took the seat opposite his. She was wearing one of her usual big hats and flowing robes; to look at her, you would never guess she'd woken from a sound sleep, hurriedly thrown on her clothes, and raced down the corridors in order to see who was in such desperate need of her in Ten Forward. "When did you arrive?"

"Just a little while ago." He grinned sheepishly. "I hope I wasn't too 'noisy' when I got here."

Guinan gave him a measuring stare. She knew the noise he was referring to had nothing to do with how audible his arrival had been. "No, not too noisy," she replied, pausing to add: "Your teacher is doing an excellent job."

"I still have a long way to go," Wesley mumbled, coloring slightly in embarrassment.

"Further than you hope, but less than you might think," Guinan pronounced after a moment spent studying him critically. "Your 'noisy' arrival didn't wake me up, but your need for someone to talk to did." She paused, her entire face inviting him to say it. Whatever it was.

"It must be pretty obvious; I'm surprised I didn't wake Counselor Troi up as well," Wesley replied after a moment, trying for a light tone and failing miserably. "I suppose she's my next stop, when it actually gets to be a decent hour to wake people up."

"Why don't you tell me what's on your mind, and I'll get you a nice cup of hot chocolate," Guinan suggested as she rose to her feet. Wesley nodded gratefully, watching as she made her way to the bar with her usual noiseless grace.

When Guinan returned a minute later, she held two steaming cups of cocoa and a plate of Counselor Troi's favorite chocolate chip cookies. She placed them on the table with a flourish as she re-took her seat. "There. That should hold us for a while." She picked up a cookie and bit into appreciatively. "Perfect."

Wesley copied her gesture as he, too, picked up and bit into a cookie, but Guinan could tell his heart wasn't in it. That feeling was confirmed when he returned the remainder of the barely tasted cookie to the plate.

"I wasn't planning on coming back, not for a while," Wesley began. "But then I started getting the feeling that someone needed me. Well, it was more than just a feeling," he admitted after a moment. "It was practically a telepathic call, but not quite." Guinan nodded her encouragement--and understanding--as she bit into a second cookie and sipped her hot chocolate. Wesley had a not-quite feeling that he wouldn't have to try to explain it further to the bartender. "Now I'm here, and I know who wanted me and why, and I don't know what to do."

Guinan nodded thoughtfully. "So you know about Robin and the baby. That didn't take long."

Wesley stared at her suspiciously. "I thought Robin didn't tell anyone besides my mother and Captain Picard!"

"Everyone knows that Robin is pregnant; it's a little tough to hide after six months," Guinan corrected him gently. "But that's all anyone else knows, and I can assure you that no one's been talking about it or trying to figure it out behind Robin's back."

"Then how--"

"I just happen to be pretty good at putting two and two together," Guinan interrupted with a shrug. She raised her hand, folding down fingers as she ticked off her reasons. "First, we suddenly start looking for you. Then Robin's 'interesting condition' becomes apparent, around the same time she starts becoming very friendly with your mother."

A grin that was well on its way to becoming a smirk appeared on her lips. "Right now everyone else is too busy speculating on your mother's changing relationship with the captain to worry too much about a little thing like the parentage of a mere ensign's baby; after all, pregnancies happen all the time, but it isn't every day the captain and his chief medical officer become romantically linked. Which means," she concluded, "that your secret is still as safe as you want it to be." She popped the last cookie into her mouth as she finished speaking, leaning back in her chair to study Wesley's reaction to her words.

His frown had deepened as she spoke, especially when she dropped that oh-so-casual statement about his mother in his lap, but it disappeared and was well on its way to becoming a grin as she finished. A grin he tried--and failed--to suppress. "Well, I have to admit to mixed feelings about my own gossip potential being overshadowed by more interesting gossip involving my mother."

Guinan inclined her head in graceful agreement, but Wesley could still see the sparkle of mischief in her depthless brown eyes. "Most parent-child relationships are filled with mixed emotions. Some of the stories I could tell you about my children-not to mention my father..." She rolled her eyes and shook her head expressively, and Wesley found himself giving in to a sudden urge to laugh out loud.

"Now that we've got that out of the way," Guinan continued once his laughter died down, "let's get back to the real subject, shall we?"

Wesley sobered abruptly. "Yeah. The real problem isn't whether anyone knows that Robin and I--that we--that I'm the father of her baby." He swallowed audibly before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Wow. That's still pretty tough to say."

"And I imagine it will be for some time--no matter who you're saying it to or where you are when you're saying it," Guinan said, her voice bland but her eyes never leaving his.

"Right to the heart of the heart of the matter," Wesley murmured. "Who I'm saying it to or where I am when I'm saying it. You don't pull any punches."

"Would you want me to?" Guinan's voice was as neutral as the expression on her face.

Wesley shook his head. "No. Not you, not Robin, and not my Mom." He grinned, briefly, but it never touched his eyes. "Part of me wishes she'd warned me or let me wait until the morning before sending me off to see Robin, but the rest of me is glad she didn't. It would only have put off the inevitable."

"It's not as if you have a lot of time to reach any decisions," Guinan pointed out.

"Yeah," Wesley agreed. "I sort of feel as if I have to plan my whole future in a few days, but I know that's not fair. I didn't ask for this to happen, and Robin certainly didn't ask for this to happen. But I still feel a little cheated." He sighed. "Does that make me a bad person?" he asked, only half-joking.

"Of course not, it's no one's fault," Guinan said. "Like you said, neither of you asked for this to happen. Robin had some tough decisions to make, and there was only so much waiting she could do before making them. But I can see your side, too," she continued. "Robin's had more time to get used to the situation than you have--six months, give or take a month, and you've had, let's see, about two or three hours. Not an easy situation for anyone, but I think especially hard for you. The timing," she added dryly, "could have been better."

"No kidding," Wesley muttered, slumping in his chair. He scrubbed his hand across his face tiredly. "What am I going to do, Guinan? I was able to leave, to go with the Traveler, because I thought what he had to teach me was more important than the life I was living--and becoming increasingly frustrated with. I had no ties to hold me back; my mother understood, and Robin practically ordered me to go." He smiled wistfully at the memory. "She said I'd always regret it if I didn't. But now..." His voice trailed off as his eyes stared past her shoulder, looking at something neither of them could truly see.

"Yes," Guinan said, interrupting the sudden silence with her quiet words. "But now there are other people directly affected by whatever decisions you make, whether it's a short-term decision like the one you have to make very soon, or the long-term ones you and Robin will no doubt be making a little later. Which, of course, leaves you open to the possibility of even more regrets. I can't say I envy you right now."

With those less than reassuring words, she rose to her feet, stretching slightly before reaching over and patting his shoulder. "I think now would be a good time for you to think about those decisions without anyone interrupting you. Which means it's time for me to get back to bed. No one will be here for a few hours; after that, you're on your own." She paused. "I'm going to say just one thing before I go: you changed your chosen path once before, so who's to say it isn't time to change it again?" She squeezed his shoulder once, lightly, then turned and left without another word.

When Guinan's assistant, Rico, came in a few hours later to officially open the lounge for business, Wesley was gone.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_A/N: I guess I should have mentioned earlier that this story skips around in time a bit, but i'm sure you've all figured that out by now. So Robin and Wesley have met, and Wes realizes he has a decision or two to make...feel free to guess! Oh, and if anyone knows what color Wil Wheaton's eyes actually are, I'll be happy to change them from brown to whatever. Thanks in advance!_


	9. Talking It Out

**oOo**

It was mid-day before Beverly Crusher found the time to see how her son was doing. She hesitated before asking the computer where he was, but finally decided to base any further decisions on that information. If he was alone, then she would invite him to lunch. But if he was with someone...

"Computer, locate Wesley Crusher," she said firmly, leaning back in the chair behind her office desk. She glanced down at the arms of that chair; had it really only been four months since she'd sat in this very place and listened while Robin Leffler confessed her "interesting condition" to her?

"Wesley Crusher is not on board the _Enterprise_," came the flat, female voice of the computer. Before Crusher had time to feel more than an automatic burst of panic at that startling news, Wesley appeared in front of her, literally out of nowhere. She gasped and half-fell against her chair in shock.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you; you just felt so worried about me, I figured I'd better show up and explain where I was," Wesley apologized.

"Where were you?" the elder Crusher asked, keeping her voice, she hoped, more inquisitive than accusative.

Wesley shrugged. "I needed to go somewhere to think, so I went to a place the Traveler showed me. It's a sort of resting place between dimensions. It's very peaceful," he added. "It's the kind of place you go when you need to do a lot of thinking."

"Of course it is," his mother murmured, feeling a faint stirring of misgivings. When he spoke like this, all her doubts came rushing back; was her son still the same person she'd given birth to, or was he changing in more than an intellectual way? And would such changes affect her grandchild?

"I'm sorry." Wesley studied her intently, sensing her sudden unease as automatically as Counselor Troi might, but not quite certain how to deal with it. "Mom, are you all right?"

She tried a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really Wesley. I just have to get used to some of the changes you've gone through. I'm trying to tell myself it's no different for any other mother whose son has gone away to study and returned changed by what he's learned, but I have to confess that I'm finding it a little difficult. Most of the time you seem the same to me, but there are other times when you seem very different, and I suppose it frightens me a little."

Wesley frowned. "Mom, I'm sorry--"

"Don't be." His mother's voice was firm as she crossed the room to give him a quick hug. "It's not your fault. Just give me a little time to get used to the new you, that's all."

"But I'm the same me," he protested. "Honestly, I don't feel any different. The only thing that's changed about me is what I can do, not who I am. Wasn't it you that told me that the two aren't always the same?"

"Actually, it was your father," Beverly corrected him gently. "He said it to me a long time ago, and I must have repeated it to you at some point. They were wise words then, and I'm beginning to realize they're wise words now. I just hope you won't hold it against us if we take a little time to fully understand that."

It was Wesley's turn to offer a reassuring hug. "I guess I didn't really think how my studies would affect anyone else except me," he admitted. "But I never intended to cut myself off from everyone completely, so it's something I should have thought about." His grin turned sly, and his mother had the uncomfortable suspicion that he was about to change the subject. "Speaking of changes..."

"Oh no you don't," Crusher said firmly, recognizing the glint of mischief in her son's eyes. It surfaced only rarely, that spark of impishness he'd inherited from her, but when it did it meant trouble--usually for her. "You are absolutely not joining the endless multitudes looking for details about my personal relationship with Jean-Luc. You know we're romantically involved. That's _all_ you need to know at the moment."

He pretended to consider that for a moment, head tilted to one side and a finger tapping his cheek. "Since I already have more details than anyone else, I suppose I can let it drop," he conceded after a moment, but the glimmer was still there. "Besides, those aren't the type of details I was looking for. I think it's only fair that you tell me your intentions. Or his intentions," he corrected himself with a straight face. "Are you certain you're ready for such a big step? Prepared to face the consequences?"

"Yes, I am," Crusher replied, her voice steady. All signs of teasing vanished when she countered his question with one of her own. "Are you?"

The glimmer was gone for good now, replaced by what looked suspiciously like panic. "You don't sidetrack easily," he muttered.

"No, I don't," his mother agreed. "And you haven't answered the question."

"I suppose," he said slowly, "that's what I need to figure out." He kissed his mother on the cheek. "I wonder if Counselor Troi is available." Meditating on the situation had raised more questions than answers; if he hadn't sensed his mother's sudden concern for him, he would have returned anyway. For once, he concluded, the answers didn't lie within himself--or if they did, he couldn't find them without help. And now his mother had inadvertently added to those questions by raising some he had completely overlooked.

"If I know her, she's been waiting for you since you got here," was his mother's wry observation. "Why don't you go see? I think she has office hours this afternoon," she added encouragingly.

Wesley nodded. "That sounds like a good idea." He turned to go, pausing in front of the door to ask, "Would dinner be okay instead of lunch? I'm not really hungry right now."

Beverly nodded, trying to keep her amazement--and concern--under control as he left her office. She watched him make his way across Sickbay before moving back around behind her desk and collapsing into her chair. Physical translocation and increased empathy she could deal with--she thought--but telepathy was something else entirely. Maybe Wesley wasn't the only one who should be talking to Deanna right now; he certainly wasn't the only one dealing with an unusual situation.

Shaking her head at the convoluted course fate seemed to be plotting for her son, Crusher forced her attention back to work. There was plenty of time to worry about Wesley after hours.

**oOo**

"Do you think I'm different? Do I seem different to you?"

Deanna Troi studied Wesley Crusher for a moment before replying. "In what way?"

She'd been expecting a visit from him, but was a little surprised by the topic he'd chosen to broach. She'd thought his first concern would be impending fatherhood. However, the question he was asking of her now was a more fundamental one, a question of identity that she'd thought resolved when he opted to study under the Traveler. Of course, circumstances were a little different now, and she realized that the two subjects were connected in a very basic way. If he wasn't sure who he was, then what kind of a parent would he be? In that context, his concerns made perfect sense.

"Do I seem like the same person who left? Do I still seem like Wesley Crusher to you?" His voice turned wistful, but Troi sensed the frustration he was feeling, as well as the unease. And it wasn't merely unease at speaking to her; years of experience told her that much.

"If you're asking me if I can still recognize you, if what you've been learning has changed who you are, I can't answer that," Troi finally responded. She held up a hand to still the protest she saw trembling on his lips. "Wait, let me finish. The Wesley Crusher who came to this ship six months ago arrived nervous, restless, and uncertain, filled with frustration and a great deal of unfocused anger. The Wesley Crusher who left this ship was filled with anticipation and determination, with an inner confidence that seemed new to me and to him. I also felt that he left with a little bit of regret," she added. He had been turning his back on everything he'd been expecting to make of his life, leaving his friends and family and a woman who he had just become close to, all to go into the unknown. Regret and maybe even a little fear were, as Troi said, to be expected. But they hadn't stopped him from leaving.

He listened to the half-Betazoid counselor's assessment of his emotional state six months prior to this conversation, and found it fascinating--and dead on. "So what do you sense now?"

"What I'd expect to feel from anyone under these circumstances," she replied without hesitation. As if she didn't even have to think about it. "Confusion, concern, a little disorientation." She paused, selecting her next words carefully. "Many things have changed here since you left, including some relationships that you might not have expected to change. In other words, the universe didn't stay still when you left, so I sense concern about those changes as well as concern about the changes in yourself--something else I'd expect to feel." She fell silent, waiting for him to work through what she was telling him--what she sensed he already knew. But the reassurance would be more readily accepted if she didn't simply hand it to him.

Wesley stared at her for a moment, then broke into a grin as he realized, finally, what she was telling him. He thought she was avoiding his first questions, or that her last words were meant as some sort of rebuke, but he saw that the way she phrased her response was all the answer he needed. He was experiencing feelings that she could comprehend, was reacting as she'd expect anyone to react--anyone, not just him. And reminding him that nothing stayed the same--not the ship, not the people on the ship, and not the relationships those people formed. "Thanks, Counselor," he said as he reached for her hand and shook it solemnly. "You've just answered all my questions."

She raised one eyebrow delicately, but he could see the touch of relief in her eyes--and, perhaps, sense it as well, although he wasn't actually trying to. His most recent lessons from the Traveler had involved shielding, but he knew he needed more training. Perhaps Deanna could help him with that--if he stayed long enough... "All of them? In less than an hour? That's a record, even for me."

"Well, all the ones I needed to hear from you," he conceded. "I still have plenty of questions, but they're mostly ones I have to answer myself. But you've made me feel a lot better about asking those questions; I was beginning to doubt if I had any right to them, but now I realize I was just panicking."

"Good. And good luck with those other questions," she added as he released her hand. "If you need to talk again, I'll be here." Wesley flashed a quick smile before jumping to his feet and heading out the door.

He did feel better, especially knowing that Counselor Troi could sense his relief. His mother would have to deal with her own fears, just as she herself had said. He wasn't a different person, he was still himself, Wesley James Crusher, and in time they would all understand what Guinan and Counselor Troi already knew. That his new-found abilities hadn't changed the person he'd always been, just as Starfleet Academy hadn't changed him. Not in any way that mattered. The changes to his abilities were no more drastic than the changes in his mother's relationship with Captain Picard--and infinitely less interesting to the _Enterprise_ crew, at least on a day to day basis. And if that was true, then maybe he could rid himself of part of his anxiety about his impending fatherhood. Especially his fear about what kind of father he would make if he decided to stay with Robin and the baby, if he decided he _could_ stay with them.

And there was the crux of the matter. He'd basically chickened out with Counselor Troi by asking about himself rather than the responsibilities he was facing, but the fact that she hadn't pushed told him that she agreed with his desire to work through those questions on his own. Of course, she had said that she would be willing to talk to him again if he needed more help, so maybe he was just being overconfident about his ability to figure things out on his own. "Brother, do I need to get outside of my own head," he muttered in disgust.

"Wesley! When did you get back?"

Wesley turned with a start; he'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't sensed Commander LaForge's approach until the other man spoke. He smiled and slowed his steps long enough for the Chief Engineer to catch up to him. "Last night, pretty late. I found out you were looking for me." May as well take the bull by the horns--a friend was exactly what he needed right now.

"Yeah, well, we weren't having much luck," LaForge admitted with a grin. "So it's just as well you made it back on your own."

"Did my Mom or Captain Picard tell you why they were looking for me?" Wesley asked warily.

LaForge's grin faded. "Well, no, not exactly." He paused, lowering his voice. "But Robin _does_ work in Engineering..."

Wesley nodded. As he'd expected. "How long did it take you and Data to figure it out?

A half-shrug. "Not too long. We haven't said anything."

Wesley didn't need his newly acquired empathic powers to tell him how uncertain LaForge was feeling right now. "It's OK, Geordi," he reassured his friend, coming to a stop and putting a hand on LaForge's arm. "The reason Robin never said anything was so we could make that decision together. And I'm pretty sure she already knows that you know. Don't worry about it."

The grin was less forced now, and once again Wesley's knowledge of his friend told him how relieved the other man felt without having to resort to empathy. "So," he said, deliberately lightening the mood. "How did you convince Data not to talk to anyone else about it?"

"It wasn't easy," LaForge admitted, glancing around conspiratorially. They were alone in the corridor. "He wanted to just go over and ask her to confirm his hypothesis-the same way," he added wryly, "he wanted your Mom and Captain Picard to confirm the rumors that were flying around about them."

Wesley grinned in delight. "That sounds like Data, all right! So." He lowered his voice confidentially as they reached the turbolift. "Give me the scoop. Exactly what kind of rumors about my Mom and the Captain are we talking about?"

**oOo**

When Geordi returned to Engineering, Wesley turned down an invitation to check things over and see how it looked after six months. It had been nice, just talking to someone about regular things, but he knew that if he accepted that invitation that he would just be avoiding his responsibilities--and his thoughts. It had been nice to get out of his head for a few minutes--Geordi's timing couldn't have been more perfect if he'd planned it--but he recognized how tempting it would be to keep avoiding what he really needed to do.

Wesley _concentrated_, and he was there, outside of space and time. "A good place to do some thinking," he'd told his mother, and it was true. However, it was also a good place to contact his mentor, without any distractions.

He was there, the Traveler, his serene gaze studying Wesley, sensing the turmoil in his student's mind and heart as he poured out his current dilemna.

_\\A complicated situation,\\_ the Traveler murmured, the words never passing his lips but moving ruefully from his mind to Wesley's with no effort. Just as his comprehension of the situation required no effort on his part.

_\\I don't know what to do,\\_ Wesley admitted, also communicating directly to his companion's mind.

_\\No,\\_ the Traveler corrected him gently_. \\You know what to do. You do not wish to acknowledge that because you are afraid of abandoning your studies, of losing what you've learned and losing the opportunity to learn even more. But you won't. I shall still be here when you are ready to resume your studies. In fact, you needn't interrupt them all, if you don't wish to.\\_

Wesley's eyes and mind filled with hope. _\\How?\\_

The Traveler gestured, indicating the no-place that surrounded them. _\\Many of your studies require real-time and real-space, but not all of them. This place will still be available to you, any time you want or need it to be. And I will be available to you as well, whenever you need me.\\_

The hope transmuted to joy. "Then I could be with Robin and the baby, and still learn--but I'd have to leave one day." Wesley had spoken rather than communicating his thoughts directly to the Traveler, but his mentor could certainly see the joy turn to disappointment as quickly as it came.

"You would," the Traveler replied, speaking as well. "But you don't have to make that decision today, or tomorrow--or even for ten years, twenty years, fifty, even. And leaving doesn't mean you can't come back. You and I both know that time, like anything else, can be manipulated. It's just another tool." _\\I can't tell you what to do, Wesley,\\_ his mental voice sounded once again_, \\but I can tell you that you have options. Your friend Guinan reminded you that you changed your path once. fF you choose to follow another path at this time, I will respect that decision. And I will be here when you are ready to take up your studies again.\\_

Wesley nodded_. \\Thank you.\\_

There was a faint sense of laughter behind the Traveler's answering _\\You're welcome.\\_


	10. Gossip Mongering

**oOo**

Wesley wandered around the ship for the rest of the afternoon, startling the few people who hadn't heard he was back and making light conversation with them, but he always excused himself after a minute and returned to what he'd been doing before the interruption: thinking. Thinking about what the Traveler had told him, about what his mother and Counselor Troi had told him, but mostly thinking about Robin.

He'd left the ship, left his friends, his family, his career, and the woman he was just beginning to realize how much he cared for--left them all, because he'd discovered a need to think about himself and his expectations for himself, for the first time in a long time. Maybe the first time ever. His first priority had been himself, and he would never regret that decision. The last six months had filled a void in his life he hadn't even noticed until it was gone.

But now, all bets were off. He'd always known that his actions had consequences, that no living being existed in a vacuum, that his decisions affected more than just himself. Because of one of those actions, he was now responsible for the creation of another life--and his future actions would have direct and measurable consequences for that other life as well as his own.

And what exactly was he sacrificing if he stayed? According to the Traveler, nothing. His mentor would be ready for him when he himself was ready to take up his studies, which meant he was free to take up as much of his old life as he wanted, and to make a new life for himself that encompassed both aspects. And, he realized in surprise, that was exactly what he wanted, what he needed right now. Finding out about the baby had changed everything, refocused his priorities as discovering his own untapped abilities had refocused them six months ago. Staying here with Robin and the baby wasn't so much taking a step backward as it was finding his way home again.

With that revelation, Wesley found himself in front of the door to Robin's quarters. He hesitated a moment, then reached out and pressed the comm button. There was no sense in putting it off a minute longer. The Traveler was correct about many things, especially about the choice being his and his alone. It wasn't fair to Robin for him to delay talking to her any longer; she'd already waited six months for him, and he was ready to see how much of him she wanted in her life. After all, she'd been very careful to keep her requests focused on the baby rather than on herself, but he didn't need empathy to sense that there was more to it than that. If he was reading more into the situation than actually existed, now was the time to find out.

The door opened, and she was standing there. Wesley licked lips suddenly gone dry. "Hi, Robin."

"Hi yourself," she said, then stepped back from the door to allow him entry to her quarters. She'd been avoiding him, forcing herself to stay away, to give him time to digest everything she'd thrown at him last night. It hadn't been easy, but she'd managed it. Here he was, a full day before she'd been planning on seeking him out. She wondered uneasily if that was good or bad, then squelched the thought. It was no use speculating without facts. She would just have to wait and see what he said before she allowed herself to have a reaction beyond the sudden tightening of her stomach and racing of her heart.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," Wesley broke into her thoughts as she sat on the sofa. He sat next to her, but she refused to see that as a good sign; people often went for close physical proximity when delivering bad news. "I spoke to the Traveler, and he doesn't see any reason for me not to stay here as long as I need to."

"How long will that be?" Leffler asked through stiff lips. Her heart was leaping with hope, but she forced herself to speak as emotionlessly as possible. She didn't want Wesley making any decisions based on what he thought she wanted him to do; it wouldn't be fair.

"As long as you want me to," Wesley replied firmly. So much for fairness. "As long as you'll have me. Robin," he continued seriously, "I don't know if you realize this, but leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. But it did allow me to start fixing things about my own life that were bothering me. Things that I needed to do, to discover about myself and what I'm capable of."

"But what if--what'll happen when you need to continue your training again?" Robin forced herself to ask. "I don't want you to feel you have to stay with us, to put your own needs aside…"

Wesley shook his head. "That's just it. I don't have to go anywhere to do that. And even if for some reason I do, at some point, it won't be any different than if we were both in Starfleet and assigned to different postings," he pointed out. "Better, even, because we'll never truly be more than a few minutes apart. Translocation is one of the things the Traveler taught me that I'm actually pretty good at. So I can be back as soon as you need me to be, no matter how long I'm gone in between. If you want me to be with you, that is," he added, feeling a sudden doubt.

Leffler responded by leaning forward and planting a firm kiss on his lips. "Don't ever worry about that," she replied after a moment spent savoring the intimacy of his embrace once again. "I want as much of you as I can get, for as long as I can have you." She kissed him again, then smiled as he pulled her closer for a warm hug.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, the peace of the moment was shattered by a loud grumble from the general vicinity of Robin's stomach. She stared down at her body for a second, then looked back at Wesley. They broke into laughter, and Robin was relieved that the heavy mood that had fallen over her since Wesley's arrival had finally broken. Not only because of her body's reaction, but also because they'd finally said the things she'd been dreading--and it had turned out better than she'd dared hope. Much better.

"I guess that means I should take you to dinner," Wesley said after the laughter died down enough for him to get the words out. "Ten-Forward okay?"

"Are you sure?" Robin asked warily. "I mean, are you ready to let people know you're the mystery man in my life?" Damn, why hadn't she thought about the little fact that not too many people knew the identity of her child's father? What had possessed her to so casually drop another potential bomb in Wesley's lap so soon after they'd resolved one of the bigger issues?

Wesley gazed at her, sensing the sudden turmoil her own words were causing her, and considering the best way to handle it. Delicately, he sensed; her emotional state was as fragile as his right now. Maybe worse, when he took hormones into consideration. "Well, I don't think we have to go making any shipwide announcements until the baby is actually born," he said seriously. "But I think people will be able to put two and two together when they see you with me--the ones who haven't already," he added wryly, thinking about Geordi and Data. "We'll be the toast of the gossip circuit for a while, then my Mom and Captain Picard will do something to catch their attention again and we'll be off the hook until the baby's actually born."

Robin nodded, feeling a little foolish for her sudden spasm of fear. "Sorry," she apologized. "I'm just used to avoiding the issue; like I told you, I wanted to wait and talk to you before making our, um, relationship, public property."

"Our relationship has never been public property, and never will be," Wesley corrected her firmly as he pulled her to her feet. "But there's nothing wrong with letting people see for themselves that we're excited about expecting a baby."

"Are we? I mean, are you? Oh damn," Robin groaned. "I just did it again. Sorry."

"Yes, I am," Wesley said reassuringly, then stopped. "Look, Robin, why don't we both agree to stop trying to second guess each other? I promise to let you know what I'm thinking and how I feel if you do. It's going to be a little awkward for a while, so we should just accept that and just try to deal with each situation as it arises. Why," he added, "do you think I haven't asked you to marry me yet? Because I really want that, and not just because of the baby. I knew I loved you when I left, but I wasn't happy with myself or my life, and I knew I couldn't make someone else happy under those circumstances. Things have changed now, so when we're ready to make that kind of commitment, I want there to be no doubts for either of us. Am I making sense," he interrupted himself, "or just babbling?"

"You're making perfect sense," Robin assured him through a brilliant smile. "I think taking things one step at a time is the right way to deal with it." She took a deep breath. "And now for the first step: dinner in Ten Forward."

Wesley bowed and tucked her hand through his arm as they headed for the door. Now that they had the first batch of heavy emotional stuff out of the way it was time to just relax and get himself back into the rhythm of being on the _Enterprise_ again. And, he admitted privately, it would be fun to see people's reactions. Or to see just how many people had already figured it out, in spite of Guinan's promises that they'd been too distracted by his mother to worry about Robin.

**oOo**

Picard leaned over and nudged Crusher to catch her attention. When she looked up, he nodded at the door. Her eyes traveled across the bar, widening in delighted surprise when she saw Robin and Wesley walk in together. Arm in arm, she noted, trying to keep the excitement off her face. "Robin and Wesley appear to have talked things over," Picard murmured with a smile.

"That was fast," Crusher replied, her voice as low as his. "Of course," she cautioned, "this might not mean anything more than that Robin's secret is no longer a secret. It probably doesn't mean they've ironed out all the details."

"I'd be surprised if they had," Picard said frankly, turning his attention back to his dinner companion. "I doubt if there are many relationships that have all the details ironed out from the very beginning."

"Well, of course not," Crusher whispered with a frown, ignoring his attempt to lighten the moment. "I only meant--Robin, Wesley! Would you care to join us?" She broke off as the objects of their discussion walked up to them.

"We don't want to interrupt," Wesley began, glancing at Picard questioningly.

"By all means, please join us," Picard invited, moving his seat slightly closer to Beverly's in order to make room. "We've hardly begun." He wondered how she was reacting to the way Wesley had looked to him for approval, then chided himself for being uncharitable. Beverly wouldn't take it personally; she'd recognize it as the ingrained habit it was for any member of the _Enterprise_ crew--past or present--to defer to the ship's captain. Even in cases where an invitation was issued from that crewman's own mother, who happened to be involved with the captain.

"Thanks," Robin said as Wesley solicitously helped her into her seat before taking the last chair. Guinan appeared the moment they were settled, took their orders with a satisfied smile hovering about the edges of her lips, then disappeared once again.

Robin fiddled with her napkin for a moment, glanced once at Wesley, then looked beseechingly at Dr. Crusher. "Is it just me, or is everyone staring at us?"

"Believe me, they were staring at this table long before you two came in," Crusher said wryly. "People still aren't quite used to seeing Jean-Luc and I together on an obvious date." She laughed. "Speaking for myself, I'm starting to get used to it, but I'm also looking forward to the time when it won't be such a novelty for everyone."

"Wesley and I are sort of testing out our own novelty value right now," Robin admitted with a self-conscious grin. "We figure the sooner everyone gets used to seeing us together, the better."

"Does that mean you'll be staying?" Crusher asked her son hopefully.

He nodded, then glanced over at Robin, who smiled back at him. "We've decided not to worry about sorting out our entire future right now; we're just going to concentrate on the baby. But yes, I'll be staying."

"Sensible," Picard declared, but he didn't miss the concerned flicker in Beverly's eyes at her son's words. He had a feeling they would be discussing this dinner for the next few days. It was good that Wesley wasn't planning on rushing off anytime soon; Robin seemed content, so that was one less worry. Or it would be if he could convince Beverly that it was; it was obvious to him that she was itching to ask for more details, or at the very least offer some motherly advice--and equally obvious that she would rather bite her tongue off than do either.

Crusher proved that out by determinedly steering the conversation toward other, less volatile matters for the rest of the evening. By the end of the meal, they'd even managed to banish most of the self-conscious tension they'd all been feeling. Crusher had certainly been correct when she told Robin that all eyes had been on herself and Picard before the other two even appeared. It still made Picard uncomfortable to be the center of attention in this particular manner, but he was determined to make this relationship work, and since he had been the one to initiate it, he knew he'd damn well better be ready to commit to it fully. He knew, without her even saying a word, that Beverly expected exactly that and no less. Just as he knew that, to her, a full commitment meant that there would be no concealing things, from each other or anyone else. She had no objections to discretion, but they were both a bit old for sneaking around. Especially since the ship's all-too-efficient grapevine was positively humming with speculation about them.

And, no doubt, just seeing Wesley back on the ship was more grist for the rumor mill--doubly so since this venture into the public eye with Robin. With an inward sigh, Picard reminded himself that the life of a starship captain was always under scrutiny. Even if he doubted that other starship captains had to put up with clandestine betting pools regarding their romantic situations.

He just wished his crew wasn't so damned interested in his personal life.


	11. Bed Time

**oOo**

Dinner having come to a satisfactory conclusion, Picard and Crusher bade Wesley and Robin good night before strolling off together. Some of the younger couples' friends had entered Ten-Forward and were obviously waiting for the captain and CMO to leave before descending on the other two.

They walked down the corridor without speaking, ending up before Picard's door. "Would you care for a nightcap?"

Crusher nodded, then followed him through the door. They still hadn't done anything official as far as moving into a single set of quarters, although the senior staff was discreet enough not to enquire as to their whereabouts if either's presence was required in the middle of the night.

Picard moved to the bottle of wine standing ready on the small table in front of the sofa as Crusher stretched and settled herself into the corner of the seat, legs curled up beneath her and head resting pensively on one hand.

Picard recognized the pose. Something was on her mind, something from dinner, no doubt. She accepted the glass he offered and sipped distractedly as he settled himself next to her. "Penny for your thoughts?" The saying was archaic but the sentiment remained the same.

"Have you thought about having children?"

Picard stared at Crusher, completely taken aback by the unexpected question, and hoping the shock he was feeling was manifesting itself on his features as nothing more severe than surprise. He'd been preparing himself for an evening of discussing Robin and Wesley, but not in this particular fashion. "Should I have been?" was all he could find to ask.

Crusher shrugged, her eyes not quite meeting his. "It's not a physical impossibility," she pointed out. "And we have been discussing marriage..."

"Do you want children? More children, I mean?" Picard fought to keep the growing panic from his voice and eyes, but had a sinking suspicion that he wasn't being very successful.

Crusher looked at him steadily. "Do you?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't really thought about it."

Crusher's eyebrow rose in disbelief. "In spite of the fact that we've been immersed almost daily in Robin's pregnancy?"

"We've also been immersed daily in the beginnings of our own relationship," Picard reminded her. "I have been thinking a great deal about Robin and Wesley and the baby, yes, and I have been thinking a great deal about us, but I haven't thought about the possibility of us having a baby of our own. But it's obviously been on your mind."

She nodded. "I've been wondering how to approach the subject," she admitted. "But I wasn't sure how you'd react to the question."

"It is just a question, isn't it?" Picard asked as a sudden worry flared in his mind. "You haven't discovered any faulty contraceptive implants, have you?"

Crusher laughed. "No, of course not, Jean-Luc, but really--!" She broke off to laugh even harder at the outrage on his face. "Oh, if you could see your expression," she gasped, struggling to bring herself back under control. "You don't have to answer the question, I can see it on your face. Don't worry; I'm willing to reserve this conversation for a later time."

She laid a private bet with herself--would he say "much later" out loud, or keep the thought to himself? Starfleet discipline apparently won out as he spoke not a word, merely grunted an acknowledgment before leaning over for a warm--and, she fancied, grateful--kiss.

"I wonder if Wesley will be using those quarters I arranged for him," she murmured, suppressing the urge to tease Picard about his obvious relief at her willingness to put aside the topic she'd originally brought up.

"Time will tell," Picard replied. "After all, if you really want to know, all you have to do is ask…the computer, that is," he added blandly. "Shall we find out?"

Crusher shook her head. "I'm not a prying mother, you know that," she replied virtuously. "If I need to find him, then I'll ask. Otherwise, it's none of my business."

"Admirable," Picard murmured as he headed for the bathroom. "If not particularly honest." With that, the door shut behind him, and Crusher found herself regretting her earlier self-restraint for a moment before allowing herself to laugh ruefully at his accuracy. Picard was right; she was dying to know if Wesley would be part of Robin's life as well as part of the baby's; the topic had been deliberately avoided at dinner, at least on her part, no matter how difficult it had been to hold her tongue. And of course Jean-Luc had noticed.

"That man is getting to know me entirely too well," she muttered as she moved into the bedroom and began stripping off her uniform. "I'd better start cultivating some new habits." Of course, she mused happily as she sat on the edge of the bed to remove her boots, there was always the subject of children to bring up again…

**oOo**

When Wesley tried to say good-night to Robin at her door, he was met with unexpected resistance. "What's the sense of you staying here if you're just going to use guest quarters?" she demanded. "Wes, I'm six months pregnant; I promise your virtue will remain intact."

"Since you're the one who unintacted it in the first place, I don't see the logic in that argument," he retorted, but the happy grin on his face told Robin that asking him to stay with her was the right choice. They slept, side by side, comfortably nestled together in her bed, and it felt so right that she wished they'd been able to do that from the start. She squashed the thought mercilessly; now was not the time for wishful thinking and might-have-beens. He was here, now, and that was what counted. And when he felt their daughter kick for the first time, the wonder in his eyes told her that he wasn't just telling her what she wanted to hear when he said he was happy about the baby. He truly felt it.

The next morning, when Wesley woke up, Robin was already out of bed. He stretched lazily, thinking it had been a long time since he'd taken the luxury of sleeping late, but rejected the thought of rolling over and continuing his sleep-in. If he was going to stay on board, he needed to make himself useful, talk to Captain Picard about a temporary assignment, if such a thing was still possible. Maybe he could call himself an outside contractor...

There was a note on the table for him. Robin had the early shift today, and would be able to meet him for lunch if that was all right. He left a note for her as well, feeling pleasantly old-fashioned and domestic as he picked up her padd and wrote down his acceptance, told her his plans for the morning, then headed out to find the captain.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_A/N: Yup, two chapters in a row, I'm on a roll! So keep me rolling and roll in those reviews! :)_


	12. Name Game

**Two Weeks Later**

Robin frowned at the computer screen, then started and rose to her feet as she heard the doors open behind her.

It was Wesley, of course; she still wasn't used to someone else sharing her quarters, but looked forward to the day when it was completely normal to her. "Sorry I'm late! I was talking to Data and lost track of time."

"No problem." Robin greeted him with a kiss and a smile. "I lost track, too."

"So," Wesley said. "What were you working on when I interrupted you?" He'd seen the patiently blinking cursor on her computer screen, the way the chair was still swaying when he came into the room, as if recently vacated, and knew he'd done exactly that--interrupted her.

"Oh! I was working on something for you, actually. Just finishing it up." Robin moved toward the screen, motioning him into the chair. "It's that list of names I told you about." She ushered him into the chair with mock gravity. "See for yourself."

Wesley lowered himself into the proffered chair, studying the screen intently. "Celeste, Serena, Selene," he read, then looked up at Robin with a grin. "Do I detect a trend?"

Robin shrugged and rubbed her stomach. "I almost went for Solome, but I had a feeling that one might not go over to well."

"It wouldn't be my first choice," Wesley conceded with a slight grimace. He returned his attention to the screen. "Samantha, Savannah--I kind of like that one--Sydney, S'loora…a Vulcan name?" He looked back at Robin. "Kind of exotic for a baby with two totally, boringly human parents, wouldn't you say?"

It was Robin's turn to make a face. "Okay, so that one may not have been a good choice either," she said, ignoring the lurch of trepidation in her stomach at Wesley's description of them as "boringly human." She still wasn't quite ready to talk to him about just how "boringly human" he was these days, what with teleporting and telepathing and who knew what else. "I wanted to make sure you had plenty to choose from, and these are the ones I liked the best. Believe me," she added with another grimace, " you don't want to see the list of rejects."

Wesley shuddered in mock horror. "Thanks for sparing me." Another glance at the screen. "Sarah, Simone..." He continued scrolling through the alarmingly long list of names while Robin watched.

She couldn't keep her eyes off him; he'd been back two weeks, and she still had an almost superstitious fear that if they parted for any substantial period of time, he would vanish from her life forever. She had to force herself to go to Engineering every day, and for the first time in her adult life wasn't resentful of the fact that she wasn't working her usual 12-hour days. She rushed back every afternoon, ate lunch with Wesley, and managed not to panic whenever he left again for the propulsion research he was performing with Commanders Data and LaForge. Fortunately there was a lot of research he could do right at their own computer terminal, and equally fortunately she had a lot of things to occupy her time. It was only times like now, when she had nothing else on her mind, that the superstitious fear took over her thoughts.

Robin still felt irrationally vulnerable when Wesley wasn't in her direct line of sight. When he was in the same room, she found herself repositioning herself so he remained constantly in view. Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher--Beverly, she had to get used to thinking of her as Beverly, the doctor had pointed out that their relationship was sufficiently complex now to warrant the familiar use of first names, at least when they were off-duty…what had she been thinking? Oh yes. Both Counselor Troi and Beverly insisted such feelings were normal, but Robin still wished they would just go away. No matter what the long-term future held, Wesley wouldn't just vanish without saying something first. The fact that he could literally do so, of course, didn't help...

"I won't do it." Startled, Robin turned to look at Wesley. He was still sitting by the computer but had turned to face her, his face serious. "Robin, I promised you I'd stay. I wouldn't just leave without saying some--"

"Don't do that!" Robin snapped before she could stop herself. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "I'm sorry, I guess I have to get used to that--"

"No, I'm sorry," Wesley replied, his face chagrined. "I have to learn how to shield better, maybe Counselor Troi could help with that. If I'm not concentrating, I have a tendency to let my shields drop and pick up more than just the general 'feel' of a room. It's not fair for me to react to your thoughts and feelings before you share them with me," he added earnestly. "I'll try not to let it happen again. I was just worried, you 'felt' so unhappy…"

"If it does happen again, I'll try not to snap at you," Robin promised. She took another deep breath, let it out slowly as she tried to clear her thoughts. "I guess I'm just a little uneasy with some of the things you've learned to do." There. She'd finally admitted it.

"I'm still me, Robin. You'll see that soon enough," Wesley said. "If nothing else, you'll notice it when I start to panic after you go into labor!"

Robin studied him a moment longer, amazed to feel the fear subsiding. She had a feeling it wouldn't be back, either. Wesley was right; he'd promised to stay, even brought up marriage, and she had to trust him. She'd always trusted his problem-solving capabilities, and she knew that she could trust his words as well as his instincts. Maybe confronting her fears had been the best way to handle them, she concluded, although it was the last thing she'd wanted to do. "I'm sorry I let this build up," she apologized. "I guess I just didn't want to burden you with anything else."

"Nothing you do or say will ever burden me," Wesley replied firmly. "We made some choices, there were consequences as a result of those choices, and now we have to deal with those consequences. I can accept that. Can you accept the fact that we got here together, that nobody is burdening anyone with anything?"

Robin smiled and nodded. "You know, I think I just might be able to do that now."

And she could, she wasn't just paying lip service or trying to make Wesley or herself feel better. He was trying so hard to make sure she was happy, it was so endearing…and so typically him. OK, so once in a while he might slip and read her thoughts, but really, was it any different than being married to, say, a Betazoid? Or a Vulcan? _Of course it was, that was a silly thing to think_, she scolded herself silently as Wesley retreated to the bathroom to wash up before their lunch date. If she'd fallen in love with a Betazoid or a Vulcan she'd have been prepared for that sort of thing.

She felt a silly grin steal across her face. She'd fallen in love, not with a Vulcan or a Betazoid, but with Wesley Crusher, son of a couple of Starfleet legends, genius, ship-saver…_and covers stealer_, she reminded herself when she felt hero-worship start to dazzle her thoughts. _And epic snorer when he sleeps on his back. He's still human, no matter what he's learned to do. Like he said, he's still himself, still Wesley. And I'm still Robin, and we're still us, and boy do I need something to eat!_

Lunch with the man she loved. This time, she didn't bother trying to tamp down on the silly grin. Let it take root and hold her face hostage. She was happy, she was in love, and she'd be damned if she'd let her own insecurities get in the way of enjoying either of those emotions.


	13. Denoument

**Near the End of the Third Trimester**

"What is this?" The confusion in Wesley's voice was matched by the expression on his face, although he had a dawning suspicion as to what exactly was going on--a suspicion that was confirmed by Data's next words.

"This is what is commonly referred to as a baby shower, Wesley," the android explained. Exactly as Wes had feared when he arrived in Ten Forward at Captain Picard's request, only to be confronted by a roomful of his friends, balloons everywhere, a huge cake surrounded by a mountain of presents on a pair of pushed-together tables, and an equally impressive mountain of food and drinks on the bar. "It was Commander Riker's idea--"

"Hey, whoa, hold on now," the first officer protested. "Geordi had a hand in on this too, I'm not taking all the blame!"

"It is true that Geordi assisted in the planning," Data agreed, turning to Riker with a serious expression on his face. "However, you were the one who suggested that Ensign Leffler was not the only parent involved, and that Wesley deserved to receive some recognition as well."

Good-natured laughter erupted around Riker, who grinned and shrugged in a "how-can-I-possibly-refute-that" gesture before throwing a companionable arm around Wesley's shoulders and steering him in the general direction of the refreshments piled on the bar. "He's got me there; I cannot argue with my own words--especially when I make the mistake of speaking in front of someone with an infallible memory."

"However," Data interjected, "full credit must be given to Geordi for suggesting that we schedule your party at the same time your mother is conducting a similar party for Robin--"

"I told you we were late, Father! He's already here!" The aggrieved voice that interrupted Data's words belonged to Alexander Roshenkov, who was tugging impatiently at Worf's arm, practically dragging his father into Ten-Forward. The grim embarrassment on the Klingon's face almost made it worth his own discomfort, Wesley decided. Almost. Then he, like Riker, shrugged and grinned. What the heck.

"Come on in and join the festivities," he called, nodding his thanks as Commander Riker thrust a glass of something into his hand.

Alexander rushed up alone, giving up on pulling his father along faster, and handed Wesley a gaily wrapped package with a startling mass of what the younger Crusher somewhat doubtfully labeled ribbons tied around it. "It's a present for the baby," Alexander announced. "I wrapped it myself," he added unnecessarily as Wesley thanked him. "Can I have something to eat?"

"Sure, dig in," Riker replied, lifting the young Klingon up on a chair next to the sweets as his father approached Wesley.

"I wish to congratulate you," he said solemnly as he shook Wesley's hand. "Becoming a father is a great responsibility, and a great joy. At times," he added with a disapproving scowl at the way Alexander was shoveling food into his face. He turned back to Wesley. "If you wish to talk to me at any time, I will be available to discuss various aspects of being a parent." With that, he shook Wesley's hand again before Riker dragged him to the end of the bar where the liquid refreshments were waiting.

Wesley stifled a grin at the thought of going to a Klingon for advice about raising children, but the grin faded as he realized that Worf--and everyone in the room--were only hoping he would need that kind of advice. He realized he and Robin had settled the matter to their mutual satisfaction, but that didn't necessarily mean that anyone else knew he was back for the foreseeable future. And he was just beginning to realize that his friends had very carefully avoided asking--whether to keep him from feeling pressured, or because they were afraid of the answer, he wasn't sure.

Then again, he decided as he looked around, maybe he didn't have to make some sort of big announcement. Everyone seemed ready to accept whatever decision he made, just as Robin had. And all he had to do was talk to Picard about being allowed to continue working with Geordi to settle the matter. Once word was out that he wasn't just visiting, that would be all the answer anyone would need.

**oOo **

Two weeks later, Wesley's prediction had come true. He'd continued some of his studies with the Traveler, but not as often as he'd thought he would; the work he was doing with propulsion systems with Data and Geordi was just as fascinating as expanding his own limits had been. Many of the things the Traveler had already shown and taught him could be directly applied to Geordi's experiments; it was remarkably satisfying to see the excitement in the Chief Engineer's face whenever Wesley offered an unconventional solution to some particularly annoying problem.

The time he spent alone with Robin was equally satisfying. She was still afraid that he would leave, still worried that she'd taken him away from his life, but she did her best to keep those fears to herself, and Wesley wisely kept his own knowledge of those fears to himself. She would learn to accept that he wasn't being forced into a life he didn't want or expect, that the choice to stay was made because it was truly what he wanted to do. Just as his mother had finally accepted the fact that her son's abilities hadn't changed the person he was. He'd been born Wesley James Crusher and he was still that same person, with the same emotions and fears as anyone else.

Emotions and fears that culminated that very night…

"Wesley."

He muttered and rolled over.

"Wesley!"

His eyes snapped open. "Robin? What's wrong?" He didn't bother shielding, her sense of anticipation and a great deal of concern as clear in her voice and face as in her emotions.

"It's time."

"Time?" he repeated stupidly, then blinked. "Time?" He sat up. "Now?"

She nodded. "Now. I contacted your mother, she's meeting us in Sickbay."

"Sickbay," Wesley repeated. "Got it." He stood up, gathering Robin in his arms as a spasm of pain crossed her face. When she started to protest, he hushed her with a kiss. "What's the good of being able to translocate if I can't save us a few minutes?" he quipped as they vanished from the darkened quarters.

If Robin had any protests, she kept them to herself as they suddenly appeared in the middle of Sickbay. Nurse Ogawa gave a startled yelp, then moved to help Robin to a bed as she recognized the situation for what it was. Wesley hovered uncertainly in the background as his mother appeared a few minutes later. Nurse Ogawa had already set up the monitors and given Robin an injection for the pain as they measured the contractions and checked to make sure it wasn't false labor.

Six hours later, Wesley stood at Robin's side, clutching her hand as his mother turned to them with a small, squalling bundle in her arms.

"Congratulations, you two." Dr. Crusher's voice was filled with pride as she laid the baby on her mother's stomach. "Say hello to your daughter."

"Hello, there, little girl," Robin whispered, smiling down at the tiny, red-faced infant. "I'm your mommy." The newborn showed her opinion of this announcement by opening her mouth and emitting a yell worthy of a Klingon opera singer.

"If she's reacting like that to you, I think I'll wait and tell her the bad news about me being her father another time," Wesley said in a stage whisper, leaning down to plant a kiss on Robin's sweaty forehead. "I just hope she likes her name better than she likes being here right now."

"That name being--?" his mother prompted.

"Celeste, Celeste Leffler Crusher," Wesley proclaimed proudly.

Robin rolled her eyes and groaned weakly. "Went for the first one on the list, eh?"

"No, of course not," Wesley said hastily. "I just liked it the best. Have I congratulated you on a beautiful baby yet?"

"Hey, those congratulations belong to both of us," Robin protested, tired enough to let it drop. For now. "We did this together, remember?"

"Yeah, but who had the hard part?" Wesley countered. Crusher stifled a grin at the relief in his voice, but could tell by the look in Robin's eye that he wasn't going to live this down for a long time.

He was just grateful that he'd be around for her to tease for a long, long time. Because there was no way he'd be able to leave either of them, not now, not ever. Nothing could keep him away from them. One look at the noisy bundle in Robin's arms and he'd fallen hopelessly in love. _I'm a father,_ he thought dazedly. _Wow._ It felt wonderful.

Crusher stripped the sterile gloves from her hand and the surgical cap from her head with a sigh, stepping away from the threesome to give them a little privacy before moving Robin to a private bed. Picard was standing by the door, a tentative smile on his face, and she moved to stand next to him. "Ensign Leffler is officially on maternity leave," she announced with a grin. "Mother and daughter are doing fine."

"And how is grandmother doing?" Picard asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Grandmother could use a cup of hot tea right about now," she replied. "Just as soon as she gets mother and child settled, and maybe shoos daddy out of the room so mother and child can get some sleep…"

Picard looked at Wesley. "Somehow I don't think you'll be able to chase him away any time soon," he murmured. Wesley stood next to Robin, stroking her hair with absent fingers while he gazed down, enraptured, at his tiny daughter. "He's asked permission to stay on board indefinitely, you know."

Crusher smiled. "I know. He seems happy."

"They both do," Picard agreed. "And so do you."

"Being a grandmother agrees with me, Jean-Luc, it agrees with me a great deal." Crusher stepped away as Nurse Ogawa approached them, spoke softly with the nurse, then walked over to kiss her son, squeeze Robin's hand, and drop a kiss on the baby's forehead. She said something to them, they smiled, and she turned back to Picard. "I'll take that cup of tea now."

He offered his arm, which she accepted, and they headed out of Sickbay. "Jean-Luc, I am a lucky woman," Crusher announced as the doors closed behind them.

He glanced back, then smiled at her. "We are all very lucky," he whispered. "I can hardly wait to see what the future brings."

**THE END**

_A/N: OK, that's the story. There's always a chance for a sequel, but this is as far as I've thought for this one. Please tell me what you thought!_


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